In the Pale Moonlight
by Jersey13
Summary: Beckett, McKay, and Sheppard are prisoners of the Wraith, and are struggling just to survive as Beckett's own research in genetic manipulation is being used against them! Gen, Team DarkFic
1. Darkness and Despair

TITLE: In the Pale Moonlight

AUTHOR: Jersey13

RATING: T

WARNINGS: DarkFic/Torture, Violence, Hurt/Comfort, and some slightly naughty language.

A/N: When I was thinking about what to write for my next fic, I wasn't really sure that I had any decent ideas. But then nebbyJen wrote her nice little Halloween one-shot called "The Highlander", which was simply too cute for words, and I could not resist delving more into that wonderful imagery of Carson as a werewolf! So now he as well as Rodney and Shep are gonna get whumped nicely by werewolves and Wraith in this one! Angst and genetic manipulation on par with 'Conversion' (season 2, Shep nearly transforms into an Iratus bug, now airing in syndication on a TV station near you) are such lovely concepts, aren't they?

Anyway, I gotta warn you guys. I don't plan to hold much back on this, but I'll try to keep it at a T rating. This fic is gonna be freaky and weird. I'm just in one of those moods lately.

* * *

Dr. Carson Beckett woke slowly, eyes blinking and then clenching shut against the harshness of the phosphorescent lighting that hummed above his head and shone brightly in the windowless room. Disorientation gripped his mind in a blank haze, and as he tried to shift himself from his stomach onto his back, his limbs felt leaden and stiff. He was not in his own room, and the lighting was too bright to be someplace else on Atlantis. Looking around with confusion, he could not remember where he was or how he'd gotten there. Taking some time to inspect his prison, he saw only the three bleak off-white walls and a locked steel door that made up the tiny cell in which he was being kept. 

_This is certainly not Atlantis,_ he thought. Upon glancing down at himself, though, he noticed that he was not wearing his jacket or vest any more. Carson wracked his brain in an effort to remember what had happened, but he could remember nothing of how he'd gotten there. His mind was a blank slate. As he brought up his arm to look at his watch, he saw that he was no longer wearing a watch and that there were patterns of cuts and contusions ringing his wrists, both of them, as if he'd been shackled in restraints and had been struggling against them. But the injuries were at least a couple of days old, possibly older. _What the hell happened?_

Carson pushed himself to his feet, biting back a wave of nausea that threatened to overcome him in the process. What the hell was going on? What was he doing here? The last thing he remembered… Willing himself to bring an image of the infirmary back into his mind, he struggled to recall anything of value. Yes, something was finally coming back to him.

Images flashed before his mind's eye…

He'd been wrapping a fresh cold pack around a nasty sprain belonging to one of the newer members of Atlantis' security force who had been injured in a sparring match with Ronon Dex. As eager as the young man had been to test his ability against the city's top fighter, he was not a sore loser, opting instead to ask Ronon and endless stream of questions about his tactics. Even as Ronon had helped him limp to the infirmary, the questions never ceased, and it was all the Satedan could do not to knock the man upside the head to shut him up.

Colonel John Sheppard, who seemed to think it was funny, had also helped him into the infirmary and had an amused grin plastered on his face. "Just hold still, Lieutenant. I'm sure Beckett will give you something for the pain in just a minute."

With a heavy sigh, Carson went to fetch a bottle of aspirin, grateful that the young man's attention was still fixed on Ronon and not himself. He wasn't sure how much more complaining he could take today after Rodney McKay had stopped by earlier to have a tiny cut on his hand cleaned. He'd whined like a two-year old at the sting of the disinfectant, and so that was when his bad mood had first made itself apparent. A headache had been plaguing him most of the day since then, and the aspirin he'd taken for it an hour or so ago just hadn't helped.

Carson fast-forwarded in his mind to the briefing that Dr. Weir had arranged that afternoon. His headache had still been throbbing, and he'd watched with mild disinterest as Rodney, who had been fidgeting restlessly up until that moment, jumped up from his chair and prepared to make his presentation. It was easy for Carson to zone out during these presentations, which were always long-winded, overly informative, and almost never had much to do with him or his department.

He was talking incessantly about a planet from which a MALP had just sent a video feed back to the city, and Rodney was excited because of a veritable treasure trove of technology that looked to have been left behind by its former inhabitants. The scene of carnage was certainly the result of a Wraith culling, which had left the area around the Stargate relatively deserted. A UAV had been dispatched not long after, confirming that the planet was indeed no longer inhabited. The Wraith had done a thorough job of claiming every single living person from the planet, leaving only a few dead bodies and the husks of their victims behind, having taken most of the population with them on their hive ships.

Members of the expedition from various different departments were planning to be dispatched on a salvage mission that very afternoon, including Carson himself apparently, and the thought made him groan inwardly. He didn't really care to for going off-world most of the time, but with his headache getting worse by the minute, the task of having to examine the bodies left behind by the Wraith was even less appealing. It was just too damn depressing. As excited as Rodney was, he didn't have to deal with all the death.

When it had finally come time to step across the event horizon of the Stargate as it shimmered before them, Carson tried to mentally prepare himself for the stench of death and decay. Even being placed in the first group to go off-world with Colonel Sheppard and the rest of his team did not make him feel better about it. But upon arriving, he hadn't even had a chance to look around before a bright light had swept over all five of them, and he could remember nothing more of what happened afterward.

His prison was quiet and lonely, and no matter how loud he shouted or banged on the heavy steel door, no one answered. He sat for hours without end, which could very well have been days for all he knew, and neither heard nor saw any sign of anyone. Thirst began to gnaw at him eventually, and it soon became far more overpowering than his hunger.

Suddenly, the lights of his prison went out, plunging him into complete darkness. It remained silent for a while longer, broken only by the sound of his ragged breathing. The click of the locking mechanism beyond the steel door resounded through the tiny room, startling him, and he heard a creaking noise as the door was slowly opened. Hands grasped at his arms in the dark, trying to drag him from the room. When he struggled against them, he felt something sharp prick his neck. Within moments, his entire body was uncontrollable and limp. He had lost all control of his muscles, all except for his breathing.

He was dragged through a series of corridors and eventually set down and laid out on a hard surface. When a bright light flickered into existence above him, he found that his eyelids were still half open, but he could neither open nor close them. Whoever his captors were, they seemed careful not to take any chances with him as they strapped him down. Carson could hear the faint clink of what sounded like surgical instruments being brought over, and panic was sparked in him as he saw the vague shape of a syringe just within his field of vision. They injected something into his arm, and a few seconds later his vision faded.

His senses were deprived and filled only with blackness, but he knew somehow that he was still awake and that it was not a dream. He felt nothing, saw nothing, heard nothing, and continued suffering in this manner for a long time before an inkling of sensation finally began to return to his fingertips. A minute later, he managed to pry his eyes open with great effort, but the sight that greeted him was hardly comforting. He'd been brought back to that lonely cell, and the bright light and hum of the phosphorescent lighting were filling his senses once more.

Eventually, he was able to move like before, and his muscles once again felt stiff and leaden. Time passed. Despair and depression began to set in, and he no longer desired to eat; his stomach felt too twisted and knotted for it anyway, but he was still thirsty, desperately thirsty. And upon glancing down at his wrists to inspect the progression of his healing, he discovered new cuts and bruises. He had no recollection of having been able to move at all, but the pattern still seemed to indicate that the injuries were self-inflicted. Other than the condition of his wrists, a few bruises on his chest and legs, and the now noticable and numerous needle marks on his arms, he had no other injuries that he could detect. It was the fact that he had not been aware of when it had happened that frightened him the most.

_Who are they? What did they do to me? What do they want from me?_ He could not even guess. There were no clues and no indication of their intentions. More endless hours passed. Thirst burned at his throat, and his tongue began to feel swollen with his worsening dehydration. When they came for him again, he was once again struck by the numbing drug and this time could not see anything. They dragged him back to that hard surface, strapped him down, and this time he thought it strange when his mind did not fall out of awareness upon being injected with the unknown drug. He could do nothing by lay there silently while they seemed to observe him, and he could not be sure what they were waiting for, but he soon found out.

There was a rustling of movement around him before pain began to wrack his entire body, and he somehow managed to let loose a feral and bloodcurdling scream. His fingers tingled, not yet free of the numbing drug's influence, but he could feel them moving. He felt himself grinding his teeth together against the pain, and finally, after several agonizingly and excruciatingly slow minutes, it began to slowly ebb and diminish. It was becoming more clear to him now how he had managed to injure his wrists, at least. He had to have yanked them in the restraints, struggling against them because of the pain, despite the fact that he remembered none of it. Blood flowed freely from new cuts on his abused wrists, but he didn't care. He'd say anything or do anything that they wanted of him. All he wanted was for them to stop torturing him for no god-damned good reason.

But as he managed to catch his breath, he still heard nothing except his own breathing. They hadn't moved and were still watching and observing him. It had been agony, burning him alive, and the last remaining licks of flames moved over him completely, right from the tips of his toes to his ears. He almost wished that they had drugged him into that state of blissful ignorance the same as they had before, and would have been tempted to ask if he'd had the ability to beg them for it. Tears rolled down his face, mixing with rivulets of a cold, pain-induced sweat. Carson was afraid that it would never end, that these drug treatments would send him into insanity before his captors finally allowed him to die from his thirst.

They waited a few more moments as his struggling ceased, and then the hands of his captors reached for the restraints to release him. Carson was in no shape to try to fight them off, much less try to escape. He was carelessly dragged off what appeared to be an examination table and taken back through a maze of corridors where he fully expected to be brought back to the same cell as before. But, when they dropped him, his hands landed on a soft carpet of what felt like grass. It was certainly not the hard floor of his cell.

Crickets chirped in the distance, a frigid breeze rustled the leaves in the grove of trees that surrounded him, and his vision was blurry and disorienting in the darkness around him. He managed to find enough strength to turn around and watch as his captors left him and saw that they were not human as they strode back to the heavy door that parted and closed behind them.

Carson did not have the strength to lift himself up from where they'd dropped him. It took all the effort he had left in him to look around for something, anything, that would reassure him that it had all been just a bad dream.

He could not decide if it was a blessing or a curse when Dr. McKay and Colonel Sheppard somehow appeared from of the shadows of the trees, and were quietly sneaking over toward him. He could not be sure of what was actually happening, but it felt quite surreal as they dragged him away from the door to that place of hell he had just been ejected from. Exhaustion was taking its toll, and the darkness enveloped him in its cold embrace. Carson knew no more.


	2. Grim Countenance

A/N: Believe it or not, folks, this is the calm before the storm. It's going to go progressively downhill from here. Flah7, I hope you're proud of me!

* * *

John watched with a concerned gaze as Carson finally began to stir from his exhausted stupor. Dragging him all the way to the river's edge hadn't been easy, not even with both his and Rodney's combined efforts. The soft babbling of the waters beyond the shore was soothing and camouflaged their voices as they spoke. A hushed silence seemed to be common in the forest, almost as if they were being watched, especially when they had been on the move. 

The sky had been dark for some time, and the temperature was dropping quickly. Rodney was lying on the ground with his head on his arms trying not to aggravate the harsh bruises ringing them as he dozed while John kept watch. Cuts and bruises were present on all of their wrists and arms, but were especially prevalent on Carson. The Wraith must have had some kind of special interest in him to have kept him so much longer than Rodney or John himself. He wasn't sure how long he'd been in there, but Rodney had been brought out just a few hours afterward.

They had discovered the river of potable water together and also that the boundaries of the forest were enclosed by a force field, but two days had passed with no sign of rescue. They'd tried to set up an ambush as a few more hapless victims were brought out at about the same time each day, victims who disappeared from where they were laid down far too quickly for his comfort, but the Wraith were too careful for that plan to work. Their captors' stunners were always at the ready, as they had found out the hard way. It was on the evening of their second day there that they had dragged out Carson. They had moved quickly to make sure that he didn't disappear as well, and if the Wraith had noticed their approach, they displayed no sign of caring.

John could not imagine that anyone else from his team would have been able to live much longer with that kind of neglect, and he prayed that Teyla and Ronon were not still inside the compound. He hated that feeling of helplessness, of not knowing what the hell was going on, so he pushed those thoughts from his mind as he knelt down at Carson's side. He was very weak, only just barely able to move. Leaning over to the edge of the river, John scooped up some water and allowed it to dribble through his fingers onto the parched lips.

Carson's eyes slowly opened, the cool sensation of the water soothing him, and he cautiously licked his lips with a dry and thirst-swollen tongue. "Colonel Sheppard?"

John frowned at the hoarseness in his friend's voice. "Yeah, Carson, I'm here. Are you alright?"

"Och," Carson gasped, his Scottish accent a bit more pronounced than usual, and brought a hand up to rub at his eyes. A look of pure relief crossed his features as he sat back and looked around, finding that he wasn't trapped in a tiny, cramped cell or strapped to a table. "I just had the most horrible nightmare."

"That was no nightmare, I'm afraid," John said despondently as he helped pull his friend up into a sitting position.

The worried and despaired appearance returned as Carson looked down at his wrists, reminded of the cuts and bruises. He stared unflinchingly for some time before he delicately maneuvered himself around enough to dip his hands into the water and drink. The coolness felt good on his wrists which still stung every time he moved his hands, but he was quite cold. After drinking his fill, he curled himself up into a ball and began to shiver. His pangs of hunger were also returning, but even if they had been able to offer him anything he still had no desire to eat.

John was at a loss to do anything to help as he looked down at the bruising that ringed his own wrists. They were just faint shadows in the darkness compared to Carson's injuries, and he tried to consider for a moment just how he had managed to obtain them, but remembered nothing of what happened before waking in the forest. As he looked around through the vast expanse of trees, he saw a dense bank of fog starting to move in, and then Rodney was suddenly looking up at him expectantly.

He spoke dejectedly and seemed annoyed at having been woken up by their conversation, but tried not to show it. "So, what do we do now?"

"I don't know," John replied. Frustration started to creep into his voice. "Frankly, I'm out of ideas for the moment."

"Wonderful," Rodney scoffed as he brought his knees up to his chest and folded his arms around himself for warmth.

They were still only wearing the simple black t-shirts that they had accustomed themselves to wearing under their jackets and combat vests, which had been taken from them all by the Wraith. The chill in the air was enough to make even the hardiest of soldiers shiver without protection.

"You're the scientist," Sheppard shot back at him with annoyance. "I don't hear you coming up with anything."

"Well, it's freezing," he complained irately, starting to shiver. "How about starting another fire? Or did you forget your survival training booklet back with the firewood back at our last camp site?"

An eerie, guttural howl suddenly echoed through the trees far in the distance on the other side of the river. McKay's head craned around fearfully like a radar dish, trying to discern the direction from which it had come, but the sound seemed to echo from everywhere at once. He rubbed at his arms futilely for warmth, trying to ignore it as his shivering continued. Icy tendrils of fear made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

"How exactly do you expect to find more firewood?" John asked after the howl had faded, giving him an exasperated glare. "It's pitch-black, if you haven't noticed. I can barely see that you and Carson are sitting right in front of me, much less see any twigs or sticks lying on the ground. So unless you want to go searching for firewood by the light near the compound, I suggest you stop complaining."

An annoyed grunt was the only response, and so John just let the argument drop. The cold didn't bother Rodney enough yet to want to go anywhere near that Wraith infested hell hole. He watched as Carson's silhouette climbed to unsteady feet and began to walk away, but neither of them questioned him. When nature calls, one must answer.

Rodney simply sat and shivered miserably as the temperature continued to drop, grateful that there were no more sounds following the howl. The last time they'd heard anything like it, it was the night that he and Sheppard had first arrived there. They had just finished setting up camp by the river for the evening when darkness had fallen quickly, much more quickly than on Earth or even Atlantis. The howl had echoed eerily through the trees and within minutes had been followed by the sounds of guttural growling, shredding cloth, and shrieks of pain. Rodney dove behind a rotting log as John grabbed a flaming branch from the fire, ready to wield it defensively.

But whatever the creatures were that had been out there, they had become silent again after a few minutes and apparently were not concerned with the two humans that had been huddled up by the fire. It had ended as swiftly as it began, and so John had lowered the flaming branch back into the fire as Rodney's head peeked up over the edge of the log. they listened intently, but neither of them heard anything more the rest of the night and there had been no other signs of activity from the creatures since.

Shifting his weight uncomfortably, the coldness of the soft grass grazed his back where his t-shirt had bunched up and exposed his skin, making him itch. His wrists were hurting, too, and Rodney did not remember ever being quite so miserable before, even when he had been in the puddle jumper that crashed and sank into the ocean. At least then the environment had been familiar and somewhat controllable, even if it had been at the cost of what little precious power reserves had remained. And what was taking Carson so long? He'd been gone at least fifteen minutes now.

Sheppard peered through the black depths of the forest, apparently having begun to wonder himself. He hoped that Carson hadn't gotten lost, but even if he had, there would be no point in going out there to look for him until morning. They'd only end up getting lost themselves. He breathed a sigh of relief as a few minutes later he heard footsteps in the undergrowth padding toward their camp. John was amazed at Carson's skill in finding his way through the dark; not a single dry twig snapped under his shoes.

"What the…" John mumbled as the sound of a small pile of wood being dropped at his feet startled him. "I thought you just went out to relieve yourself. How the hell did you manage to find all this wood?"

"I did," he replied matter-of-factly. "T'was right there scattered on the ground as I was walkin' back, so I just picked it up on my way."

Rodney shook his head disbelievingly. "There's no way you could have seen it on the ground in all this darkness. I can't even see my own hand in front of my face."

"The moon is comin' out," Carson said, pointing through the canopy of the trees in some arbitrary direction at something in the blackness that neither of his friends could discern. A small smile cracked his lips, also unseen. "Mum always made me eat my carrots when I was younger. She always said it would give me good vision at night, but I hated them. Maybe it's not all hogwash after all."

"I happen to like carrots," Rodney mumbled with a sharp pang of hunger, then decided that he'd rather conserve his energy than argue, at least until Sheppard could start up the fire. He'd already pulled a piece of flint from his pocket and was trying to strike it against a rough piece of steel to light some kindling. After a few more tries, a fire was soon ablaze before them.

"Jesus Christ, Carson!" McKay exclaimed after finally having had a good look at him by the light of the fire. He was never one to leave well enough alone. "What the hell happened to you in there?"

John had intended to be thoughtful and not ask, but Rodney never had the tact to think twice about what he said, even to people that he liked. Carson looked down at himself in confusion; he hadn't thought he'd looked that bad until he remembered his wrists. Rubbing at them self-consciously, his expression turned grim. He didn't really want to talk about it.

"I don't remember any of it," John admitted uncomfortably. He didn't really want to talk about it either, but it was possible that Carson might remember something that could help them escape. "You were in there a lot longer than either of us, though. Do you remember anything?"

"Aye," Carson sighed, gazing absently into the fire and nodding affirmatively. "I do."

"Well?" Rodney demanded impatiently when he didn't immediately speak up. "I don't remember any of it either, and I'd really like to know how I got all those bruises, too."

Carson recounted his tale as best he could remember, brutally honest and vividly describing each detail. A hardened, solemn expression prevailed over John's face, and Rodney cringed horrifically throughout the telling of the story. When he was finished, the forest was again overcome with a hushed silence, interrupted only by the occasional crackling of the fire. None of them would be getting any sleep that night.


	3. A Question of Fate

A/N: I'm sorry to have to leave you all hanging, but it couldn't be helped. This chapter was becoming far too long. :)

* * *

Teyla Emmagan paced the small confines of the outpost platform that overlooked the Stargate, occasionally looking out over the ruins of the village that were spread out before her. Dr. Zelenka had completely disassembled the dialing device, and its parts were strewn haphazardly across the grass. If she looked carefully, it almost seemed to be arranged in similar patterns to the rows of burnt-down buildings and homes that were visible in the distance. She was able to zone out the soft noise of the parts clinking together softly as he continued the disassembly, choosing instead to focus her attention on other sounds and smells as she kept watch. 

Ronon was sitting with his back on the center beam of the raised outpost, dozing silently, but Teyla would not have been able to tell if his eyes hadn't been closed. She was exhausted too, but felt obligated to keep watch with the other teams that had been sent out to help look for the part of her team that had gone missing. And Dr. Zelenka must have been just as tired. He muttered frustrated curses in Czech when no one was around, and being that he'd been working practically non-stop for nearly two days, few dared to bother asking him for a status report.

She had seen the beam of white light when her team had arrived, but had been left standing just where she was before. Colonel Sheppard had been standing in front, and when he had suddenly disappeared out of existence in the brightness of the light she'd searched the skies for signs of Wraith darts, but there had been none. Ronon had been the only one left standing beside her, and when she'd dialed Atlantis back to report what had happened, Dr. Weir ordered teams to be mobilized for a search of the area. No one had questioned why certain team members were excluded from the search. The reason was obvious: the ATA gene. It was the only reason that she could think of for Sheppard, McKay, and Beckett to all disappear without Teyla and Ronon.

When Dr. Zelenka had been sent with the first teams, his scanner picked up an unusual energy spike from the dialing device on their arrival. Further inspection revealed that a device of organic design, typical of the Wraith, had been intricately attached to its power source in such a way that when it sensed someone it was programmed to look for come through the Stargate, it would instantly beam away the selected individuals with a culling beam. The smattering of source code embedded in the device that Radek had managed to decrypt seemed to indicate what they already knew: someone had known they'd be coming, and they had obviously gotten what they wanted.

All that was left for him to do was to find out where the stream of data that represented their physical bodies had been sent to, which was not as easy as it sounded. Whoever had designed the device had interfaced it with the Stargate so that its data could be transmitted to a pre-programmed address. He couldn't even be positive that his colleagues had been transmitted to another world, but any addresses that might have been stored in its memory seemed to have been carefully obfuscated and encrypted with the device's source code. Radek had been searching the Stargate's address memory buffer with a fine-tooth comb for even tiny fragments of an address, but the device had been programmed to cause a surge of feedback that erased the contents of the buffer each time it was activated.

The device had been purposefully constructed to hide its secrets well and its circuitry and modularized design were much different from other Wraith technologies that he'd encountered before, almost as if it was a hybrid of Wraith technology along with another technology that was more foreign. Dr. Weir had the appearance of someone utterly confused when he tried to explain all of this to her, and simply nodded appreciatively before sending him back to work. If there was a way to locate Sheppard, McKay, and Beckett, she had confidence that he would find it. As he leaned over the innards of the dialing device once more and pushed his fatigue to the back of his mind, he found himself wishing that he shared her confidence. The prospects of finding out much more from the alien technology were not good.

* * *

Rodney was about to nod off, letting his head slide forward as his eyes drifted closed. His head suddenly jerked back uncomfortably, and he blinked the sleepiness from his eyes. The fog had gotten worse for a while, but it had lifted some time before the light of dawn had appeared in the sky, accentuating the blackness with hues of orange and purple before finally being filled with the pale violet of that world's sky. It was only just after dawn, but he still wasn't ready to allow himself any sleep just yet. He could already feel the violent images of nightmares forming in his mind, and knew that if his exhaustion overcame him that they would torment him. 

Carson had drifted off first. As he lied there curled up next to the smoking remnants of the previous night's fire, Rodney was temped by a sudden urge to start talking, to chastise Carson for giving him nightmares. It was the exhaustion getting to him, though, and he knew it. He kept telling himself that Carson hadn't done anything wrong, but the pent up frustration, anger, and fear had no outlet. And now Sheppard was staring at him again.

"What?" he demanded angrily. He tried to keep his voice low so as not to wake Carson.

Sheppard looked away self-consciously, exhaustion written on his face as well. "I was just trying to think of a way to get out of here."

"Oh, so _now_ you have an idea?" Rodney sneered.

"Yeah, as a matter of fact, an idea is starting to form itself," John insisted irately. "Do you think it would be possible to pry the doors to the compound open without the Wraith noticing it?"

"Pry them open, maybe," McKay said thoughtfully. "But those weird surveillance devices seem to be everywhere. I seriously doubt that we'd be able to take one step in that place without being seen."

"Maybe if we run really fast…"

He knew John was grasping at straws. "Even if we did manage to get inside somehow, how would we find our way out? I don't know the layout of that place and neither do you. Look, I want to get out of here as much as you do, but without a distraction or something, we'd be just asking to get our asses stuck with more needles."

"If you have any other ideas I'd love to hear them, but I don't see what other choice we have." But as he looked up, John was now looking at something behind Rodney as he spoke. "Wait... I think we might just have that distraction you were talking about after all."

McKay turned his head to follow Sheppard's gaze. There on the other side of the river were at least two-dozen Wraith. They had broken up into several parties, were brandishing stunners, and seemed to be scouring the forest looking for something… or someone. Panic began to well up inside him and his fatigue was beginning to make him irrational, but John put a firm hand on his shoulder as he nudged Carson awake with his foot. Carson slowly uncurled himself onto his back, blinking with annoyance at the new light that had filled the sky while he was asleep.

"Wake up, Doc," Sheppard urged insistently, nudging him again. "We need to get moving."

As Carson stiffly climbed to his feet, McKay thought something might have been different about him. He was filthy, his hair was disheveled, and Carson's noon-O'clock shadow that he'd sported as usual three days or so ago had already turned from prickly stubble into a thick, gruff beard practically overnight. Rubbing absently at his own stubble, he was contemplating silently to himself how lucky Carson was to have such thick hair when John yanked him up to his feet.

But before they had a chance to leave their campfire behind and make a run for the doors that led into the rear of the compound, Sheppard stopped. His face displayed a somewhat shocked and disconcerted expression, but as McKay again followed his gaze out into the forest, he saw nothing. And then the branch of a sapling rustled in the periphery of his vision just ever so slightly.

"What? What is—" McKay implored, but was not able to finish his sentence before a black-furred creature wearing only a few shredded articles of clothing bounded from the trees above him into the center of their camp. He yelped and tripped over his own feet, falling bottom first onto the ground. John and Carson could do no more than stare at it motionlessly as it crouched down, and it seemed ready to pounce on them. The creature was bipedal and vaguely shaped like a man, but had long black claws and red eyes that seemed to glow when its gaze turned toward them. It snarled threateningly, baring a mouthful of viciously pointed fangs, but it did not immediately attack them. Instead, it seemed to be more concerned with the parties of Wraith that had spotted it moving on the opposite side of the riverbank.

With a guttural growl that bespoke of the phrase 'get the hell out of my way', it bounded off past McKay and with a great feat of strength leapt in a single bound practically the entire distance across the river, which was at least thirty or so feet across, to land in the shallow pools of the opposite side. Other creatures with fur of varying colors, dirty blonde, mahogany brown, black, and even one bright red, bounded between the trunks and disappeared into the trees past the expanse of the river. They seemed to be coordinating an attack on the Wraith, which certainly seemed to be just the distraction that they had needed.

Sheppard shook himself out of his shock first, grabbing the shirts of his two teammates and dragged them away from the spectacle of the attack. When McKay finally turned his head away to actually look where he was going, the battle had not been going well for the creatures, he was somewhat sorry to see. The Wraith had had their stunners ready and had been quite prepared for the onslaught. In fact, they even seemed to be enjoying themselves immensely. And then just before he turned and saw one of the Wraith begin to euphorically feed upon one of the fallen creatures, it dawned on him that these things were in fact what they had come into the forest looking for.

Rodney was then running for his life and would not turn back to look at them again. It was just a few moments later that they found themselves in front of the large steel door, and John ripped off the access panel on the door jamb.

"Do something with those circuits, Rodney!" he shouted as he went to find the thickest branch he could heft with Carson's help.

McKay gasped with frustration as he tried to catch his breath, but did not argue. He yanked at the wires within it, trying to find one that was electrified. Upon finding one, he jammed it into the circuitry that he could only assume controlled the locking mechanism, causing a rain of sparks that made him cringe. There was a faint click, and John nodded to Carson, giving the signal. They plowed the tip of the branch into the tiny crack between the doors and shoved hard, trying to pry them open with every bit of strength they could muster.

The doors creaked and moaned, then finally parted just enough for them to slip through. But just as John was about to shove Rodney through the opening, a greenish tinged hand appeared and began to push the doors open further.

"Shit!" John cursed softly, very nearly on the verge of panic.

He stumbled backward, barely able to keep himself standing as another two-dozen Wraith filed through one by one into the clearing where they stood and raised their stunners menacingly. John was tempted to tell his team to make a run for it, but there was little point now. The stunners were already trained on them, so it was better to remain conscious in order to find out what it was the Wraith wanted with them. The first one to come through had stepped forward and grasped John by the neck, choking him and nearly lifting him off his feet. The Wraith pulled out some kind of scanning device and lifted it up to examine him.

When the Wraith frowned with disappointment and tossed him aside, John was confoundedly shocked. The Wraith reached for McKay next and raised its scanner again. Another frown followed, but instead of being thrown onto the ground, McKay was thrown into the crowd of Wraith still waiting at the door. John watched in horror as two in the back dragged Rodney into the compound kicking and screaming. When he lunged angrily, he was backhanded by the leader, who stood over him and hissed menacingly before finally turning his attention to Beckett.

Grabbing him by the throat, the scanner was raised once more. A toothy smile shallowly crossed the Wraith's features, and the scanner was then lowered as several others came forward to hold Beckett still. He cringed fearfully when the leader leaned in closely, and as the feeding hand was thrust against his chest, a terrified and horrific scream sounded from Carson's lungs. His life was being drained away, and John could do nothing about it.


	4. And Let My Crying Come Unto Thee

A/N: Drat! After perusing through the reviews, it seems that someone has found out my dastardly plan! Erm... I mean... the Wraith's dastardly plan!

* * *

McKay couldn't move. He couldn't see anything, and he couldn't panic even if he'd wanted to. The Wraith had stuck him with something sharp on his neck, and within moments his entire body had become numb and lifeless. After a few minutes, he felt himself being lowered onto a hard, cold floor. It wasn't the grassy dirt that he'd been forced to sleep on the last several nights, and it might have even felt somewhat reassuring to not have to sleep on the ground if he had not been so frightened. 

After the drug had worn off, he was left alone for a long time in a room that was eerily similar to the one described by Carson, and the prospect of living his friend's terrible nightmare was not something he was prepared to face. The lighting hummed steadily and shone far too brightly onto the off-white walls for his comfort. He wouldn't dare let his eyes close long enough to sleep, even if the light hadn't been too intrusive for it. But the humming was quiet, almost lyrical. It lulled him into a state that felt almost like a trance.

That was when he knew he was losing it. He could hear a strange, alien musical ballad that echoed across the bare and nondescript halls seemingly both outside and inside his cell at the same time. It wasn't altogether unpleasant; in fact, if not for the spells of panic that would occasionally torment him each time he thought he heard a footstep outside, he might have felt soothed by it. But a couple of hours later, the lyrical noises were gone, and all that remained was his panic. When the lights suddenly blinked out, he hadn't been prepared for it. There had been no audible footsteps, and as the latch of the lock was lifted, he silently wished that he could wake up and find himself drenched in a cold sweat in the relative safety of his room on Atlantis.

He was not to be so lucky today. Gruff hands yanked at his arms in the darkness, and he again felt the pinch of the numbing drug being applied. Before he could be sure of what was really happening, he felt himself being dragged and strapped down onto some kind of examination table. Carson had described it perfectly, but McKay had not wanted to believe him. For him, it just wasn't possible for everything Carson had said to be true. He felt the contents of a syringe being injected into him, and his breathing became haggard.

A long moment passed where he neither heard nor felt anything more... until the pain began to wrack his body. He cried out, somehow managed to call out the names of his companions, and begged them to rescue him from this torment. But they did not come.

* * *

John could hardly believe his eyes as he witnessed Carson slump over limply in the grip of the two Wraith that had been holding him. The leader of the group had apparently taken its fill of its prey's life force and had begun to slowly move away. The lifeless body was then unceremoniously dropped to the ground, seemingly being left for dead. John was too stricken to move at first, but as the Wraith moved on into the forest without further concern for the two humans they were leaving behind, he slowly made his way over to Carson's side. 

Strangely though, he seemed to be unchanged for the most part. The Wraith leader had fed upon him more than long enough to completely drain away the life of a normal human. But as Carson laid there struggling to continue breathing through his pain, John did notice that a few streaks of gray had worked their way into the dark brown of his beard and hair. He began to suspect that perhaps the feeding had not actually been as long or hadn't drained as much life as he thought it had, but he could have sworn that it had indeed been long enough. After all, he had been fed upon by a Wraith himself when he had been a prisoner of the Genii. It just didn't seem to make sense, and he was so tired. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take.

"Carson, are you alright?" he whispered softly.

A sharp gasp of pain was all Carson could manage for a response.

He wasn't about to allow him to just lay there until the Wraith decided to return, so John grasped him firmly, dragging him through the underbrush of the forest as far as he could take him before having to stop and catch his breath. As physically fit as he was, they did not make it far away, not even half way to the river. Sweat beaded on his forehead, making his skin feel clammy in the cool air. But as he wiped a forearm against his brow, he mused that at least it wasn't as cold as it had been overnight.

There was no way he was going to be able to drag Carson much further, certainly not all the way to the previous night's camp at the river. John cleared a space in the underbrush by a closely knit cluster of trees and pulled him into its relative safety. He had to find out what the Wraith were up to, and if it was possible, what they intended to do to McKay.

"Just hold on, Doc," John assured Carson softly. "I'll be back in a little while to check on you, okay?"

There was no forthcoming response to his words, but he didn't really expect one. Wiping his sweat-slick hands on his pants, John strode past the bushes that hid Carson, making a mental note of its location so he would be able to more easily find him again, then started making his way in the direction he thought the Wraith had gone. The size of the enclosed forest was quite substantial, at least five or six miles across at its widest, but there was still plenty of time left in the day.

John came across a wide swath of trampled grass that snaked between the trees ahead of him. It wouldn't have taken someone with the tracking skills of Ronon Dex to pick up on the trail that the Wraith had left in their wake. In fact, a small child with even the slightest interest in following would have been hard-pressed to miss it. Following it for a while, he froze in his tracks as he heard the telltale footsteps of the Wraith returning back along the same path. They were likely on their way back to the compound.

He dove into the bushes next to an outcropping of rocks just to the side of the path and counted his lucky stars as it seemed that the Wraith had not seen him. They walked past his innocuous hiding place with smug and confident grins on their hideous faces. With the idle assurance that they were following the path the same way they had come, he was confident that they would not find Carson on their way back. So he cautiously allowed his curiosity some slack, continuing to tread lightly along the path in the direction they had come from. It was not long before he found out for himself what their purpose in coming into the forest had been.

A clearing was just ahead, and the smoking remnants of a large fire made the center of what appeared to be a primitive camp. Simple huts and canvas lean-tos circled the area around the fire, and in the walkways between them lay the unmoving bodies of at least a dozen creatures like the ones they had seen earlier by the river. They were a mixture of male and female, all decrepit, well-aged, and wearing the tattered and shredded remains of what used to be clothing over their gray-flecked, furry bodies. A few of them that were lying on their backs displayed the familiar wound on the chest that he recognized as feeding marks. It was a horrific and gruesome sight; as scary as they looked, he pitied them.

But as he warily took a few steps closer, he saw that most of them were still breathing, though unconscious from the shock and pain. He knew very well what pain they had just gone through. As he silently took in the magnitude of suffering the poor creatures had endured, a short, quick movement caught his eye. A small creature, just a boy, slowly crawled out from under the heavy wooden support structure of one primitive hut and ran over to the side of an unconscious female. John stood frozen in place as he watched the boy grasp for and clutch at the female's arm. If he'd been human, John wouldn't have guessed his age to be no more than four or five years old.

"Mama, wake up…" he murmured softly, then began to cry. "Mama… Please wake up!"

_They can talk!?_ John thought to himself. It was one of the most pathetic and heart-wrenching sights he had ever seen in his many years of service in the Air Force, and it was all he could do to resist pulling the boy away from what initially appeared to be the dead body of his mother. Slowly and carefully, he stepped forward and knelt down at the mother's side to feel for a pulse in order to make sure. The boy looked up at him with reddened and tear-filled eyes, but had stopped crying for the moment.

"Can you heal her?" he whispered, admirably trying to control his trembling.

John looked over at him and tried to offer a reassuring smile. "Don't worry. She's not dead."

The boy rubbed the tears from his cheeks and eyes and slowly approached John, reaching out for him with tiny, furry hands. John resisted the urge to step backward as the boy clutched at him and began to cry into his pant leg. Even at his age, he was quite strong for a little kid. His little claws dug into the fabric of John's pants right through to his skin. It stung like hell, but the boy obviously needed someone to hold onto, so he pitied him and allowed the boy some comfort.

A sudden rustling in the trees above put him on alert, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. The boy seemed to pay no notice to the sound, though, and continued to hold onto him. Before he perceived which direction the sound had come from, the black creature that they had seen before dropped from the trees directly next to John, snarling angrily. John shrank back, holding the boy back protectively with one arm as he instinctively reached for a pistol that wasn't there.

"Daddy!" the boy cried upon seeing the black creature crouch down; it was baring its fangs, ready to attack. The boy then pulled himself from John's arms to run over and embrace the large creature, and John could only stare after him incredulously. "The Wraith, Daddy! They were here! Mommy tried to stop them..."

The creature seemed to forget all about him at that moment as it ran over to the female's side and pulled her into a tender embrace. John slowly let out a breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding, but his breath quickened as he found himself being surrounded by a half dozen more creatures, some with wounds and some without. Then John's hand was being tugged on by the boy, who was trying to get his attention.

"Can you help her?" he asked pleadingly. His eyes were fearful and timid, and John could hardly bear to tell the kid that he was not a miracle-worker. The boy's eyes began to well once again with tears, and his lower lip began to tremble.

John tousled the boy's hair, giving him another forced smile. "I think she'll be okay, but I really wish that I could have been able to help," John said nervously as he turned to speak to the creature that was still kneeling and cradling the mother's unconscious form. "But the Wraith were already done and were on their way back to the compound when I got here."

The creature stood up, carefully laying the woman back down at his feet and glared at John suspiciously. "If it is truly your intention to help us, you are welcome here."

_So they can all speak,_ John thought to himself hopefully, nodding affirmatively. It was odd hearing it speak; its voice was guttural and deep.

"Your manners are odd. You are obviously a stranger to this place. Are you hungry?" the creature asked politely, but almost sounded as though he was giving him a warning instead. "The Wraith may steal our life force from us, but at least they do not steal our food. We do not have much, and we guard our stores from thieves, but we will gladly share if you might have the power to cure my people."

"I can't promise much," he said, his stomach twisting with the anticipation of food. "One of my friends is a doctor and might be able to help, but we haven't had anything to eat in three days."

"Where are these friends of yours?" it asked him curiously.

"One of them was taken back into the compound," John explained, but as he did, their expressions became solemn, and they shook their heads sympathetically. "The other was attacked by the Wraith. I couldn't carry him far enough."

It nodded tersely in agreement. "I will help you carry him."

The other creatures began to mill around, trying to help the injured as the two left the small village together. The black-furred creature politely walked at John's side, allowing him to lead the way. But when they reached the spot that John was sure he had laid him down to rest, Carson was gone.


	5. Comfort and Pain

A/N: Aww... wasn't that little wolf boy just so darned cute? At least, that's why my beta said. :) And why no reviews on chapter 4? You guys don't seem to be very grateful that Carson's alive! I'll just have to whump him some more...

* * *

"What the hell?" John mumbled, looking around and through the trees futilely. "I left him right here." 

The black-furred creature that had accompanied him sniffed at the air nervously, and then suddenly had John by the throat in its powerful grip. "If you've led me into a trap, you will be the first to die!"

John was flabbergasted, and didn't bother to struggle against the impossibly powerful, vice-like grip. "I haven't, I swear! He was right here!"

It seemed to think about it for a few moments before it sniffed the air again, and then decided to sling John under its arm like a sack of potatoes. He could do little more than grunt as the creature pulled him effortlessly up into a tree and then sat him down precariously on a branch, very nearly at the top. When John opened his eyes, a stunning vista of the forest was laid out before him, but there was still no sign of Carson.

The creature, whatever its name was, craned its head around, looking for signs of danger, but relaxed slightly as it apparently saw none. It reached out a clawed finger toward John's right, and he followed it with his gaze. He had to squint to make it out against the midday sunlight streaming through the canopy, but in the distance, he could see smoke from a campfire rising through the trees.

"I believe _they _took your friend," the creature said softly, slowly withdrawing its finger. "I can smell them, along with what must be the scent of your friend. But for your friend's sake and ours, you should hope that I am wrong."

"Why?" John asked skeptically, not quite sure he really wanted to know.

"They've raided our camp time and time again, always either looking for food or revenge," it explained with contempt in its voice, its fangs gleaming faintly in the sunlight as it bared them with disgust. "They have killed more of us than the Wraith have, many more."

"Who are they?" He was becoming more concerned by the minute.

The creature growled at him with irritation, grasping at the branches as if about to leap from them. "You ask too many questions."

"Hey!" John yelped. "You don't intend to just leave me up here, do you? It'll take me forever to get down."

With a grunt of annoyance, it slung him over its shoulder and practically dropped from the tree. John felt the sickening sensation of falling and was afraid that he was about to land on his back, but the creature hit the ground running with him still slung over its shoulder. He felt himself being jostled around roughly, but its grip on him was steadfast and sure.

John felt like he was being shaken violently, and was growing impatient with his new friend's freelance escapade. "Where are you taking me?"

"We must leave this place quickly," it said simply.

"What about Carson?" John said desperately, just about ready to start beating his fists against the creature's back. "I don't care if you think he's a lost cause or not. I'm not going to just leave him behind. Let me go!"

But a moment later, John felt himself being lowered to the ground. They had already returned to the camp, and now it was too late. He was growing angry. Stepping up into its face, he fumed, ready to give it a piece of his mind.

"Hold on to your temper, friend," it said first. "Rein in your anger for now. We will need your help when we raid their camp tonight."

"Tonight…?" John said questioningly, his anger all but forgotten. "You intend to attack them?"

"Yes," it confirmed, glaring at him curiously and attempted to discern his intentions. "They will not be expecting it so soon. Do you intend to help us?"

John thought about it for a moment, but could see no alternative. He would need their help if they were going to survive. "If they have him, then yes. I'll help."

It seemed to put the creature more at ease with him. It clapped him on the shoulder, giving him the most kindly grin it could muster. "Don't worry. We will get him back for you as we reclaim the food that they stole from us a few days ago. Come, my friend. Let us eat now."

Most of the creatures that lived in the ramshackle camp were back on their feet and going about their business by then, including the mother and child. He played his childish games with dirt-covered sticks and rocks by the door of a hut as his mother watched him from inside, where she rested comfortably on a bed of blankets. The black creature went inside first, motioning for him to follow. Gulping nervously, John cautiously pushed aside the cloth divider at the entrance and stepped inside.

He was made a place to sit on the floor next to the black creature, and as he lowered himself, the boy ran inside and happily sat in his father's lap, giggling softly. The scene was touching, almost human. Introductions were the first order of business.

"I am Lo'Nan," the creature said proudly. "My wife is Anara, and my son is Jol'Nan."

"John Sheppard," he replied in turn.

A bowl of porridge made from some kind of wild grain was placed in his hands, and John could not help his curiosity. "You don't eat meat?"

The creature laughed heartily, and the boy joined him with a giggle. It leaned over to retrieve something from a corner of the hut behind it. "Of course we do."

A handful of tough strips of meat were placed on the mat next to him. "I'm sorry. I just assumed…"

A solemn and troubled expression passed over the creature's harsh features. "Despite our appearance, my friend, we are not the beasts that we might seem to be."

"I'm not sure I understand," John admitted honestly, tasting the porridge with his finger. It was surprisingly tasty.

"We were a small group of people that managed to survive the culling," it explained furtively, sadly. The boy fell silent then, too. "But the Wraith would not allow us to escape. Worshippers of the Wraith within our ranks betrayed our city to its doom. They did this to us."

John nearly choked on his mouthful of porridge. "Are you telling me that the Wraith did this to you? _They_ turned you into… on purpose?"

The furry head nodded gravely. "They did. And our own people helped them, people who were our friends, our comrades. Every week the Wraith come into the forest looking for us. And every time, they feed upon us, and we do not die."

He jumped to his feet anxiously. "I have to find Carson."

"I do not believe they would have killed him," the creature, who was now revealed to actually be a man, said confidently. "If he is alive, he will be likely to remain so, and we will seek him together when the forest is shrouded in darkness."

* * *

Carson's eyes fluttered slowly, and did not seem to want to open completely. His skin tingled, as if ants were crawling on him under his clothing. It made him twitch and he tried to sit up. A comforting hand was suddenly on his shoulder, pushing him back flat onto the ground. He didn't fight it; he was feeling too horrible and weak to resist. 

"Rest easy," a gruff, but feminine voice spoke beside him. "We've all had a rough day."

He didn't recognize the voice. His eyelids flew open and he looked around, nearly on the verge of panic. A female creature like the ones he had seen earlier in the forest knelt next to him, staring at his reaction curiously. He shied away from her, trying to push himself up and away from the creature that frightened him, despite his weakness. She frowned at him, but did not immediately move to stop him.

"If we had wanted to kill you, you would be dead," she said with a mocking tone.

"Who are you?" he demanded, propping himself up on his elbows. He was not at all put at ease by her words. "Where am I?"

"You are in our camp and you are our prisoner," she said nonchalantly. "I have been placed in charge of watching you for the time being, so be warned that I will not treat you nicely if you attempt to escape from me. We do not take kindly to spies."

He looked around slowly, trying to remember what had happened. Memories surfaced of Rodney being dragged away, and also of the Wraith feeding on him. He vaguely recollected that he had been with John before he had fallen into the black depths of unconsciousness, and he did not know where he had been brought. The rough canvas of the lean-to that he was lying under protected him from the last rays of the late-afternoon sun that filtered through the trees, flapping and fluttering as it was caught up in the stiff breeze. Bustling noises, voices, and the smell of meat being laid out over the central campfire to smoke permeated the air around him.

The female creature sat back on her haunches, gazing at him thoughtfully. "You seem to be new to this place. I have never encountered your scent before."

Carson warily looked back at her. "You think I'm a spy?"

"Aren't you?" she asked suspiciously.

"No!" he exclaimed adamantly. "I'm not! I just want tae go home. Why would ye think I'm a spy?"

She growled lowly. "The one who was with you earlier was seen walking toward the enemy's camp. We have confirmed reports from our scouting parties that he is with them as we speak. What other explanation can there be?"

He scratched at a tingling itch on his arm. "Well, whatever you might think, I'm not a spy!"

She frowned at him again, looking down at his arm where he had itched. Pulling out a pouch from a corner of the lean-to, she reached into it and grabbed a handful of dark-colored powder. "Whoever you are, you obviously haven't been here long."

He followed her gaze as she reached out to him, and saw a small pattern of ugly scratches on his arm that oozed blood. She smeared the herbal remedy onto the wound, and Carson watched intently as the stinging and tingling faded away. Had he just done that to himself? He glanced down, and instead of the usual pink flesh of his hands and wrists, he saw that they were grimy and discolored, and his nails had become thickly gnarled and dark. They were razor sharp… like claws.

Something must have happened while he was unconscious. Trembling with fear and panic, he rubbed at his hands, trying to remove what he hoped was just dirt and grime. Some of it came off, but whatever had happened to his nails wasn't going away with the rubbing. The female creature reached out with her own hairy and clawed hands, and laid them over his comfortingly.

Looking up into her face, she seemed to understand all too well what he was going through. The thought was lost to him as she stood up pulled him to his feet, then yanked him along roughly as she slowly walked across the dilapidated camp, which was full of bedraggled creatures just like her that were trying to stretch out sore muscles and treat their wounds. Their injuries appeared to consist of primarily feeding marks left on their chests after the Wraith had found them, apparently sometime after they'd left Carson behind for dead. As frightened as he was, and as much as he hated being a prisoner, he pitied the poor creatures.

"What is _that _doing here?" an angry, harsh voice growled from behind them. "I thought I told you to kill him."

"Noraan seems to think he's more valuable alive," the female leading Carson stated with annoyance. "There is no need for concern. He has asked to see the stranger, and I am watching this one very carefully."

Carson could feel the creature's enraged gaze on his back, and he cringed as it snorted with disdain. He grunted with pain as it grabbed him by a hank of hair, pulling his head back until he was looking directly into its ugly, hairy face.

"When are they going to attack?" it whispered, baring its fangs threateningly.

"I don't know!" he yelped fearfully, trying futilely to yank himself out of the death grip.

It wrapped a clawed hand around his throat and began to squeeze, pulling Carson's face closer. "You will tell me, or you will die!"

But even if Carson had been able to tell the creature what it wanted to know, its grip was too powerful. He felt the darkness of unconsciousness looming.


	6. Redemption

A/N: I decided to clarify a little bit of what's going on in this chapter. Poor, poor Carson, huh? So how are you guys enjoying the story so far? I'm really starting to like how this is turning out. Got a little bit more Rodney-whump in this one, and I'm planning to whump Shep some in the next chapter with some horrific blood and gore, baby! Stay tuned, Shep-whump fans!

* * *

A right hook suddenly flew through the air, connecting squarely with the creature's jaw. It staggered backward and growled with fury as Carson saw the female creature stand before him protectively, glaring at the aggressor intently. Neither budged for a long moment, but eventually, the creature that had almost killed him walked off, scowling with anger. He gasped for breath as she held him steady, allowing him a few moments before continuing to lead him across the camp. 

"Thank you," Carson muttered through pained gasps as he struggled to keep up.

She did not respond, but did glance over at him. They had just stopped at the entrance to a primitive hut when another creature approached, another male. He looked older, more mature somehow, but did not seem to be much different. He could hardly tell them apart, and this one's fur was a very light sandy brown, which contrasted much against the female's dark brown, but something seemed similar about them. He wondered if perhaps they could be related.

"I am Noraan," the male said. Its voice was low and rich, which surprised him. "This is my sister, Nia. Have you been treated well?"

It seemed his observation was confirmed, but he gave no response to the question.

"Tregan nearly strangled him," Nia muttered with annoyance in his stead.

"Then I must apologize, Stranger," Noraan said, looking away with regret. "Tensions are high in our camp since the Wraith's hunt. I hope you understand."

Carson still said nothing. He had no reason to trust them.

"You're new here." Noraan inspected him carefully, and noted the appearance of Carson's hands with what appeared to be some trepidation. "You seem none the worse for wear, but I see you have already begun to turn."

"Turn?" Carson repeated with confusion. His skin had begun to itch again with the influx of adrenaline. "I don't understand."

"Your hands," the sandy-brown creature said, giving him a perplexed look. "They have begun to turn. You are changing."

"What do you mean?" Carson asked breathlessly, bringing up his hands to look at them. He was once again on the verge of panic. "What am I changing into?"

There was a long pause as they stared at him, and then looked back at each other incredulously before Nia spoke. "You are changing into one of us."

Her words hit Carson like a huge weight on his shoulders. His shoulders slumped, each breath coming in gasps, and he began to feel faint with fear and panic.

"You did not know?" Noraan said. His words were more of a statement than a question. "The Wraith have been doing this for some time now, and are inflicting this suffering onto all the people they manage to snare in their traps. They do it in order to feed upon us, and so that we do not die from it. You are not alone."

Carson's eyes burned with tears that would not be shed just yet. He knew that there was only one way that the Wraith would have suddenly been able to manage an experiment with implications of this magnitude. They had to have used his retrovirus research, and they had somehow corrupted it, changed it, and used it to suit their needs. All these people suffered because of him, and his friends were suffering, all because he had allowed his research to fall into the hands of the Wraith when they had been tricked into giving up the location of Earth. And now he would suffer for it, too.

"It's my fault," he whispered, feeling as if he was about to fall to his knees.

"How is it your fault?" Noraan asked firmly, lowering himself down in front of him. "You were not the one who injected the drug into my arm."

"It was my research," he explained, wiping his forearm across his face to remove a building layer of cold sweat. "I'm responsible for all o' this."

Nia's nose wrinkled with disgust. "Why would you develop a drug that would turn us into beasts and help feed the Wraith?"

"I would'nae have ever done that," Carson implored, but the guilt he felt still plagued him. "I developed a retrovirus that strips the Wraith of certain genes, an' it effectively turns them into humans. They must have mutated it to do somethin' else. There's no other explanation for any o' this."

"A drug that turns the Wraith into humans…?" Noraan said thoughtfully. "Such a drug would be incredibly valuable. I wish that we could have had this weapon when they culled our world. Your research was not in vain; you could not have known."

"I'm sorry," Carson pleaded guiltily. "I'm so sorry, I really am!"

Noraan put a compassionate hand on his shoulder. "If you feel you must make amends, my friend, assure me that you will try to cure us. And if you can't do that, at least help us make an effort to escape from this place, so that we may live out the rest of our lives free from the Wraith and their cruelty."

Carson's face softened as he looked up at their kindly expressions. He hadn't expected them to be such compassionate people, much less that they were actually human at all. Drawing in a deep breath and straightening back, he felt steadier and a bit stronger than before. He was renewed with determination to do right by these people, and he would not allow the Wraith to continue their experimentation if there was something that he could do about it.

He allowed them to lead him away, back near the fire at the center of the camp where the meat was being smoked. It smelled delicious, and his mouth watered with extraordinary hunger. Noraan laughed when he saw the object of Carson's gaze, and invited him to sit and eat. For the moment, as Carson told them his name and chatted with the others sitting at the fire, he felt a small measure of contentment shining through the gloom brought on by the events that had occurred over the past three days.

* * *

The waves of dizziness had come and gone for a while, but were now beginning to return again. Rodney cursed his body for betraying him, for finally succumbing to a hypoglycemic reaction due to his lack of having eaten at all in the last three days, as well as for causing him such horrible, terrible pain, the likes of which he'd never felt before. The Wraith had seemed to delight in causing him as much of it as possible over the span of the two sessions of experimentation that he'd spent restrained to that examination table. He didn't care if they sent him back to that waiting room of white horror, and he didn't care if they continued to talk about him like he wasn't actually there any more. All he wanted was just to be removed from the pain, and quietly and quickly was preferable. 

Finally, he sighed inwardly with relief at the first sign of being released from his bonds being presented to him. The Wraith and what appeared to be their human lab assistants were arguing, oblivious to his listening ears. And it wasn't like he could cover his ears and not listen to them discussing the experimentation, either. He still couldn't move; the pain had allowed him only just enough strength to scream with terror before he had been forced to lie quietly once more.

"We are becoming impatient with your progress," one of the Wraith hissed to a human that was dressed in white laboratory garb.

The human cringed, made apprehensive by the displeasure in the Wraith's tone. His voice was as shaky as his trembling hands. "The new serum works, My Lord. We just need time to perfect and thoroughly test it."

_So, they're Wraith worshippers, helping the Wraith experiment on other humans so that they don't become fodder themselves; how pathetic._

The Wraith gave the human the toothiest, widest, and most intimidating grin it could manage. "We brought you these new test subjects in order for you to perfect the drug. But if you cannot make it work against _all_ of the humans on the worlds that we intend to cull, they may find a way to reverse it."

"The aberrant gene sequence in these humans is _very_ rare," the man cried frightfully, holding out his hands before the Wraith in submissive obedience and looking for compassion where there was none. "We could not have known that they would be resistant to it. But the new formula does appear to have been effective on at least one of the new subjects. Please, we just need more time!"

"Our patience grows thin," the Wraith hissed irately, and then moved its head slightly towards Rodney. "Finish your experimentation and return that one to the forest as quickly as possible. If it dies before we know if this trial was successful, I will kill you."

He nodded obediently, lowering his eyes. "Yes, My Lord."

If Rodney could have willed himself dead just to spite his captors, he might have been tempted by it. More pain was in store for him before they would release him to starve to death in the forest, and he knew it. All he could hope for was the small chance that Sheppard might have managed to find something to eat. His stomach grumbled longingly as images of food danced in his head. Like a big blob of spaghetti and meatballs, along with a side of garlic bread… or a chicken sandwich… or a big, juicy cheeseburger and steak fries… with ketchup, lots and lots of ketchup…

* * *

John was dozing lightly with his back against a tree when he felt someone tapping his shoulder insistently. As he slowly forced his eyes open, he saw darkness looming on the horizon through the canopy of trees in the distance, and the temperature was beginning to drop again. Lo'Nan was crouching beside him, patiently waiting for John to fully return to awareness. He seemed to be anxious about something, though, if the tension in his shoulders and the deep furrow in his thickly furred brows was any indication. 

"Sheppard," he said, prodding John's shoulder again. "You must wake."

"Is it time to go already?" John asked groggily, reaching up a hand to rub the drowsiness from his eyes. "It's not dark yet."

"Not quite," Lo'Nan began hesitantly, and then straightened his back rigidly with nervousness. "Someone was just brought outside the compound, and we do not recognize him. If he is this other friend that you spoke of, I thought that you would want to know."

"Where is he?" John insisted anxiously, moving his gaze across the scenery of their camp before him, but did not see anything going on that was out of the ordinary.

Lo'Nan laid a supportive hand on his shoulder. "Do not worry. I have already sent two men back to fetch him, and they should be returning with him momentarily."

He offered John a helpful hand as he climbed stiffly to his feet, and it was accepted gratefully. It was only a moment later that he saw two hairy men dragging a fretfully red-faced and sweaty Dr. McKay behind them, and he seemed to be pleading with them for his life in between frightened gasps that seemed to resemble incoherent speech. John noted with mild amusement that he seemed to be under the impression somehow that they were planning to eat him. He gave Lo'Nan a bemused look, which was returned to him in kind with an innocent shrug.

"Take it easy, Rodney" John said, carefully stepping over to where the two men had dropped the scientist, who was still trembling with fear. Rodney squinted up at him in the quickly fading light, trying to pick his face out of the shadows. "It's just me."

"Sheppard!" he wailed with both relief and fear. He recognized John's voice when he had spoken, at least. "They're going to eat you too? Where's Carson? Did he at least make it out of here alive?"

John was glad that Rodney was alright, and still his usual pessimistic self. He allowed a comfortably familiar tone of annoyance and exasperation to creep into his voice. "Will you relax? They're not going to eat us."

"They're—they're not?" Rodney stuttered, allowing his heavy breathing to slow down a bit as he sat down cross-legged. "What—where's Carson? Is he alright?"

John took a deep breath before answering. "We think he's being held prisoner in another camp."

Rodney's gleaming ray of hope faded with the last rays of light in the sky overhead, which gently turned from a deep violet to all black.


	7. Claws in the Darkness

A/N: The moment has finally come, my friends! Shep is going to suffer big time in this chapter and the next, and I think you all will enjoy the angst as much as I did! But first, Rodney gets attacked by a wolf-boy, and Carson gets a little more hurt/comfort! I'm going to try to finish writing this as quickly as possible, as I have a term project due that I need to dedicate next week to. I'll be away at AnimeUSA this weekend, but I'll try to get some more of this done. I'm glad you guys have started leaving me reviews again, and I'm glad that you guys are enjoying it. I was starting to get worried that a werewolf had eaten all of you!

* * *

The hairy people that John had just introduced to him were quietly clustered around the campfire, sitting close for warmth. Rodney mused contentedly to himself that they didn't seem to be such a bad bunch after all. They had fed him, and had even offered him a lean-to of his own for the night to rest under, claiming that they could smell rain coming in the air. But he hadn't been sure how much that forecast could be trusted, and decided that he immeasurably preferred the warmth of the fire for the time being. A third helping of porridge had been offered to him upon slurping up the remnants of a second from the crude bowl, but he declined and politely thanked them for the much-welcome meal. There was no use in getting indigestion on some freaky, backward world that didn't have any pink bismuth readily available for consumption. 

He lazily stretched out on the ground in front of the fire, his stomach pleasantly satiated for the first time in days. But just as he had closed his eyes, he felt a chilly drop of water fall on his cheek. And then another. The fire crackled and popped, but did not fade as droplets of water began to pelt it and him.

_It just figures that they'd be right,_ Rodney thought to himself with a sigh as he sat up straight and pulled his knees up to his chest, attempting to defiantly wait out what could have just been a passing shower. The hairy people were beginning to take cover inside their huts and lean-tos for the night, and Rodney was soon left by himself at the fire, shivering from the chill of the water that was beginning to drench him. He turned his chin toward the fire as John approached, hiding his discomfort.

"Come on, Rodney," John said to him softly with a motion of his hand. "Pull your foot out of your mouth and come inside. Lo'Nan and Anara have invited us to dry off for a while by the fire in their hut."

With a disgruntled sigh, Rodney slowly climbed to his feet and silently followed John into a short, but sizable hut on the other side of the camp. Their hosts were already waiting inside, and Lo'Nan was stoking a cozy fire in the center as Anara laid out mats for them to sit upon. As he stepped inside, a small, black-haired creature ran past Rodney into the hut, and it startled him enough that he nearly tripped. It giggled softly, hiding behind Lo'Nan's well-muscled legs, and John snickered softly at him as he stared at the creature with surprise.

"That's just Jol'Nan," John whispered, leaning in close so that only Rodney could hear him. "He's an energetic little tyke, isn't he?"

"Hmm," he groaned contemptuously, but did not say more. He despised kids; they were monster-like by themselves enough already, and he wasn't sure how well he'd take to being around one that had been turned into a monster by the Wraith.

_The poor kid,_ he found himself thinking instead. As much as he hated having to deal with the likes of him, he felt sorry for him. There were no other boys around that he could see, or any other kids at all for that matter, and life on that planet was harsh. He didn't envy the life the boy would have if he were to be forced to grow up in this place.

Anara scooped the boy up into her arms and quietly admonished him for his bad manners before turning back to speak to Rodney. "I apologize if he startled you. We do not often have guests."

"Oh... uh, sure," Rodney mumbled as politely as he could as he stiffly sat down cross-legged on a mat next to Colonel Sheppard. "No problem."

Rodney started to feel somewhat left out as John and Lo'Nan began to speak, conspiring together in soft, hushed voices. The adventurous little boy seemed confident around them, apparently put at ease by his parents' generous nature. He slowly crept closer to Rodney, who was watching with a bemused expression as the boy grinned at him mischievously. He continued to creep closer and closer, until he leaped forward into Rodney's lap and landed against his chest, almost as if pouncing on prey, causing him to make an 'oomph' noise. He was then caught in a furiously tight bear hug, and grimaced with discomfort as the boy's claws dug lightly into his flesh in the process.

It was like being terrorized by the kids on M7G-677 all over again, and he could do nothing about it while the rest of the room snickered with amusement at his expense. Rodney turned his head to the left and gave John a pleading look that bespoke of extraordinary discomfort, but he was too busy chatting with his new friend to really notice. Luckily for him, though, the boy soon settled down in his lap and nestled himself protectively and tiredly against Rodney's chest. It must have been getting close to his bed time.

When John and Lo'Nan finally stood and began to make their way to the exit without him, Rodney looked up at them in confusion. "Where are you going?"

"We're heading out for a while," John said casually, turning to face him as Lo'Nan waited patiently for him outside. "Carson is out there, and I'm going after him."

"And you're just going to leave me here?" Rodney outright protested. A surge of panic welled up within him at the thought of being left behind.

"We expect there will be resistance, Rodney," John explained furtively. "You're in no shape to do any fighting right now."

"Against others like _them_?" he argued. "No, I'm not, and neither are you!"

"We'll see about that," John shot back defiantly. "I'm not leaving Carson out there alone. You stay here with Anara. We'll be back as soon as we can."

Rodney watched him pull the cloth at the door back into place behind him, and knew in his heart that something was going to go wrong; horribly wrong. The boy wriggled around in his lap and wrapped his arms around Rodney's chest comfortingly. His eyelids drooped sleepily, and a yawn escaped between the tiny fangs arranged neatly in his mouth.

"Don't worry," he told him confidently, but tiredly. "My daddy will watch over your friend while they are gone."

* * *

Nia had been there for him when the pain had returned, and he was immensely grateful for it. He had just finished eating by the fire when the pain had begun to wrack his body again, and it felt the same as when he'd been a prisoner in the compound. Nia had dragged him into a hut and had laid him next to a smaller fire, where he had writhed and screamed for some time. But now that it had passed for the most part, he simply laid there weakly, trying to wait for the tremors to stop. 

His breathing had come in short gasps, but was now starting to calm a bit. Nia had been sitting next to him quietly, and at first he had hardly noticed her presence through the haze. As the painful tremors faded and finally began to cease, he felt awash with a sweet, euphoric sensation. Carson rubbed absently at his jaw, which was soon the only part of his body that still throbbed. He'd been clenching his teeth together tightly against the pain, but he supposed that it was something he could deal with.

Carson had become fully aware of Nia's presence when she gently helped him sit upright and began to carefully inspect him for injuries. She allowed his head to roll forward against her, which came to rest against the bare curve where her shoulder met her neck. The soft fur that grew there tickled his forehead and nose as her hands completed their search, finally coming to a stop at his face. A sharp twinge of pain made him jerk his head back as she touched his jaw.

If there was one thing that he felt was different about him at that moment, it was that his sense of smell seemed to have become ever so much more sensitive, seemingly by a hundred-fold. He could smell the distinctiveness of the wood by the smoke coming from the fire, and could smell the distinct scents of the people that moved about outside, even through the rain that had begun to fall from the pitch blackness of the sky. But as his forehead lay nuzzled against her neck, the smell that surprised him most of all was how wonderfully feminine Nia's scent suddenly seemed. Her femaleness filled his senses. It was strangely intoxicating as he suddenly felt himself experiencing a very carnal, very primal desire for her.

If she sensed any of this from him, she did not show it. As he allowed the pitter-patter of the rain outside to soothe him, he slowly reached out a finger to trace a line of soft fur that grew in a pattern along her chin. But before he could follow the line further down across her neck and chest, she grasped his hand in hers and maneuvered it away safely into his lap.

"I'm sure these sensations are new to you," she whispered to him softly. "But right now, you should rest."

He was almost glad that the discoloration that had first appeared on his hands and arms had spread, and now reached up well past his neck and chin under his thick, scruffy beard. If not for that, she might have noticed him blushing beet red with embarrassment, even in the dim light given off by the fire. She touched his jaw again, and he flinched from the pain as his lips curled back to reveal what she had been seeking to inspect.

"Your teeth have shifted," she said with a compassionate frown, then reached into the pouch on her hip and produced a gnarled root. "Chew this, but do not swallow."

She slipped it into his hand, and he sniffed at it curiously. "What is it?"

"It will numb the pain," she explained. "Just don't swallow it. If you do, your throat will go numb as well, and you may choke."

Carson cautiously placed the root in his mouth and grimaced with pain as he crushed it between his teeth. It tasted strongly like mint, and it produced a tingling sensation in his sinuses that almost resembled that of menthol. Slowly and surely, his gums began to tingle too, and the pain faded away as he chewed.

"Thank you," he said with a cough. His words were slurred and distorted from the numbing effect of the root, but she understood, and he smiled at her gratefully.

She returned his smile, and they sat together in silence for several moments. Then suddenly, her back arched stiffly with nervousness, and her head turned toward the exit expectantly. As Carson listened intently, an eerie howl pierced through the relatively quiet drumming of the rain, but was difficult to pinpoint. Nia stood rigidly, and he looked up at her with concern.

"What is it?" he inquired softly, but she did not move. "What's happenin'?"

"Our enemies are preparing to attack us," she growled lowly, baring her fangs with anger. "Stay here, and do not leave the hut."

The sounds of harsh, guttural growling and shrieking sounded in the darkness around them, and Nia rushed outside to help. Carson's breathing became heavy and labored as he peered through the hut's door frame intently, sampling the air with his newly-sensitive nose, and he tasted the sickening scent of blood. Guilt stabbed at him again, and being that he was starting to feel better, he decided to try to help however he could. He stepped outside hesitantly.

The rain quickly soaked him, dripping down into his eyes over his thickened eyebrows, and he cringed with surprise as a body thudded against the ground near the hut. Tregan was standing over the prostrate and bloodied form of a creature that Carson did not recognize, and he howled with voracious bloodlust as he lunged for his next victim. He and a black creature fought violently, growling and slashing at each other with their claws. Blood was staining what little was left of their clothing, which hang tattered on their broadly-muscled chests. His eyes were beginning to adjust to the dark away from the fire, and he saw other shadows moving about in the darkness. As he watched with growing concern, the two creatures that were fighting closest to him seemed to be evenly matched.

Another shadowy figure approached Tregan in the darkness and leaped through the air, readying its claws for an attack from behind. Carson grabbed at the creature mid-air, and flung it to the ground with every bit of strength he could muster. Tregan had seen it coming, though, and snorted his approval at Carson as he continued to grapple with the black creature. But the creature that he had just thrown wasn't unconscious yet, and was pushing itself to its feet in the mud, its red eyes glaring furiously at him.

Carson backpedaled when it crouched down and leapt at him, and he tried to bring up his arms to protect his face and chest from its onslaught. It was strong, insanely strong, but he fought against it bravely until he felt the hands of two more enemies grasping at him from behind. He became enraged, kicking at them and struggled in their grip, managing to throw one behind off of him, and punched furiously at the one in front. A moment later, only one of them was left trying to hold him, and he raised his hand to slash at it with his new claws.

Putting the full brunt of his weight behind his swing, he slashed at the shadowy figure's chest. It fell hard and rolled onto its back, letting out a too-human cry of pain as it lay sprawled out over the mud. And as Carson's eyes completely adjusted to the dimness, he looked down to find that he recognized the figure that lied before him. His heart pounded in his ears, and panic welled within him. It was Colonel John Sheppard, and he was bleeding profusely from three very long and jagged lacerations on his chest.


	8. Remorseful Lament

A/N: I'm so, so terribly depressed after hearing some really horrible news. You all have no idea how difficult it was for me to finish writing this chapter today, but here it is. I hope for your sakes that I can at least manage a few more chapters to finish this before all my energy is sucked away into worrying about what TPTB are going to screw up next.

* * *

John was trying as hard as he could to keep up in the darkness, but there was no way that he could match his new friends' speed, agility, and night vision. He felt bad about continually falling behind and forcing Lo'Nan and his companions to wait for him, but they said nothing of it. When they finally came upon the enemy camp in the darkness, John was no longer sure which direction their own camp was, and once more struggled to catch his breath while the others prepared for their assault. He twitched nervously as a deafening howl was let loose from Lo'Nan's lungs. 

The purpose of the howl wasn't immediately clear to him, and at first he thought it was a bad idea to give away their position. But the dampening properties of the rain and the thick trees that still stood between them and the camp seemed to confuse the direction of the sound. As he looked back at the camp, men and women were running in any number of directions in fright, and Lo'Nan's howl had obviously succeeded in shattering their complacency.

He watched then as Lo'Nan and the others threw themselves against the scant perimeter defenses of the camp, enraptured by their ferocity. A few of them had slipped around to the opposite side of the camp and were assaulting the hut where he'd been told the stores of food were kept. He slipped through the shadows of the fire in the center of the camp and warily followed Lo'Nan, who had thrown himself against a powerful creature as a distraction that would allow others to grab the food that had been stolen and run. John whirled around when he felt a claw grasping his shoulder, and let out a gasp as he was reassured by the presence of one of Lo'Nan's comrades, not an enemy creature.

And then, when a hesitant figure then appeared out of a doorway in a hut, John instantly knew that it was Carson. Lo'Nan and the powerful creature were still fighting, and they had managed to place themselves between him and Carson. The one who had grasped his shoulder decided to join in the foray, and after bringing himself up from a deep crouch, had leapt headlong at the enemy creature's back.

John stood by and stared, dumbfounded, as Carson charged forward with an angry growl, literally grabbing Lo'Nan's colleague out of the air before tossing him aside. Pulling aside another from his raid group that was looking for someone else to subdue, John rushed over to Carson, intent on grabbing him and making a run for it as quickly as possible. But before he could reach out and pull him aside, Carson was suddenly reeling backward into him. Lo'Nan's friend had gotten to his feet and was trying to corner him between them, and so John and the creature beside him grabbed for Carson simultaneously.

"Carson, we have to get out of here, right now!" John shouted, but his words did not seem to register on Carson.

Roaring with rage, Carson squirmed in their grip, managing to throw the other two off. And when Carson then turned toward him and raised his hand in the air, John suddenly had no idea what had hit him. The next thing he knew, he was sprawled on the wet and muddy ground, dazed with shock. As he slowly lifted his head to see what had happened, he blinked with confusion as he saw the cuts on his chest. They were deep, reaching all the way from his left collarbone down to just below his navel, and were quickly welling up with bright red blood that was just barely visible by the flicker of firelight in the distance.

"Carson…?" John whispered weakly, shifting his gaze up at the shadowy figure that stood over him.

The shadow slowly lowered its clawed hand, its breathing coming in quick, sharp gasps, and fell to its knees beside him. The familiar Scottish brogue was thick and labored. "Colonel Sheppard…?"

"What did you—Why…?" he tried to ask, but was swiftly overcome with dizziness from shock. He clenched his eyes and tried to cover his chest with his hands so that the rain would stop making the deep cuts sting. He knew that he was losing a lot of blood, but it didn't really register with him until Carson leaned down and placed a hand over his wounds, applying pressure in an effort to stop the bleeding.

John's eyes slowly began to droop closed. A muffled yelp was then suddenly audible as his eyes fluttered open just long enough to see Carson being tackled to the ground by the men he'd recently evaded, but also joined now by Lo'Nan. The creature Lo'Nan had been fighting lay unmoving on the ground, surrounded by three more of Lo'Nan's comrades who had returned to come to his aid after having already made off with the food.

Carson howled with fear and frustration, trying to attract the attention and help of others in the camp as his arms and legs were bound with coarse rope, but most of them had already fled or had gone chasing others carrying food through the forest. John watched solemnly as a gag was yanked over Carson's mouth to silence him, and Lo'Nan then knelt down next to him, placing a hand comfortingly on his shoulder.

"Are you alright, Sheppard?" he asked quietly, leaning over to inspect John's injury for himself.

"What the hell happened to him?" John asked weakly, trying to delicately use his elbows to raise himself up into a sitting position. But Lo'Nan said nothing, and as he reached down to help him up, John shoved his hands away angrily. "I asked you what happened, damn it! Now tell me what's going on!"

Lo'Nan simply knelt there silently for a moment, and John watched with a growing sense of unease as his new friends began to haul Carson off back toward their camp. A few of them stayed behind with Lo'Nan though, and they looked over at him curiously. John knew that they desired to leave the enemy camp as quickly as possible, but they did not seem to want to rush their leader. So they stood by, trying to wait patiently.

John looked back at Lo'Nan expectantly, still waiting for an answer.

"Your friend is turning," Lo'Nan whispered finally. "He is becoming one of us. What perplexes me, though, is why you have not also begun to turn."

Looking down once more at the bruising that ringed his wrists, John thought that some pieces of this puzzle were starting to fall into place. It had begun to heal, and was now much fainter and no longer painful to the touch. But if he had been subject to the same torture and experimentation as Carson, it confused him to think that he did not seem to be experiencing the same symptoms. What was happening to Carson, and why wasn't it happening to himself, too?

He reached out a hand to support himself against Lo'Nan's shoulder, trying to hold his posture straight enough not to exacerbate the wounds on his chest. But they began to bleed again when he stood, and his legs would no longer support him properly. Lo'Nan reached out once more to assist in supporting most of John's weight, and this time his help was not refused.

The walk back to the camp was long and arduous, and John was losing more blood every minute he was on his feet. The deep lacerations didn't seem to want to close, and blood oozed down his shirt onto his pants, even seeping a bit into his boots. By the time they had arrived at Lo'Nan's hut, John was deathly pale and practically being carried. What little strength he had left was being used to hold up his head as he was lowered onto the clean reed mats inside, and Anara sent Jol'Nan away outside before going to fetch some water from the river.

Rodney had not been able to fall asleep, and upon seeing the decrepit condition of his team's leader, had stood and stared wide-eyed and helpless. Lo'Nan and Anara did their best to bandage John's chest as best they could, and Rodney came up and sat down at his side when they had finished. A fearful and anxious expression would not leave his friend's face, and it was all John could do to stave off slipping under that blanket of unconsciousness. Having done all that could be done to stop the flow of blood from his chest, Lo'Nan and Anara left Rodney alone with John for the time being. He could only hope that their efforts would be enough.

Several moments of uncomfortable silence filled the hut before Rodney finally spoke bleakly. "Didn't I tell you not to go getting into a fight with those people? If I didn't say so before, I meant to."

"I was wondering… how long it would take… for you to say, 'I told you so'," John said feebly between soft gasps of pain. His eyelids were beginning to droop tiredly.

Another long moment of silence passed while Rodney tried to think of something more hopeful to say. "So did you find Carson?"

John nodded, almost imperceptibly, but it was clear. Speech seemed to be becoming more difficult for him with each passing second.

"You did?" Rodney stammered with surprise, and then leaned in closer with hopeful interest. "Well, where is he then? Were you able to bring him back?"

"Lo'Nan…" John whispered softly as his eyes drifted closed. The fine lines on his face softened as fatigue overcame him, and although his words were badly slurred, he managed to finish answering Rodney's question. "His friends… They carried him."

Rodney watched as John slipped blissfully into unconsciousness brought on by loss of blood, then rose to his feet and stormed outside furiously. Lo'Nan was standing at the fire in the center of camp, warming his hands in silence as Anara held Jol'Nan in a tender embrace. The boy must have also been worried about John, and it softened Rodney as he angrily strode up to Lo'Nan, but only just a bit.

"Just what were you thinking, huh?" Rodney demanded angrily, shoving an accusing finger at Lo'Nan's chest, and too bitter to care any longer about the fact that Lo'Nan was an imposing full head taller than he himself, not to mention strong enough to tear him in half. "I should've gone with him. How could you just let him get into a fight with those… those _things_ in the other camp?"

Lo'Nan took a step back hesitantly when Rodney did not back down, remaining silent with guilt. Jol'Nan began to cry in his mother's arms.

"This is all _your_ fault! So, don't think for a moment that I'm going to forget this any time soon." He continued irrationally, pressing his point home firmly. "And where's Carson? What have you done with him?"

Lo'Nan slowly raised his hand and silently pointed in the direction of a different hut. When Rodney was sure that he would not say more, he walked away without another word and went to find Carson. Drawing aside the rough cloth at the entrance to the hut, he hesitated for only a moment before stepping inside. It took a minute for his eyes to adjust to the complete darkness, but as he waited, it became easier to discern Carson's shadowy figure lying on the floor of the hut. He grunted through his gag with the effort of trying to sit up when Rodney lowered himself down onto one knee beside him.

It was still too dim for Rodney to see clearly, and he had to guide his hands mostly by touch as he reached around to untie the gag from around Carson's head. His face seemed dark and blotchy, but those slate-blue eyes looked pleadingly at Rodney while the knot was being undone. Upon removing the gag, Carson's gaze turned downward, as if he was ashamed to meet his friend's eyes.

"Carson, what the hell is going on?" Rodney asked, annoyed with frustration as he reached down to untie his hands next. "First, Colonel Sheppard gets carried back nearly cut in half and close to death, and now I find you in here bound and gagged. Why?"

"I did it," Carson replied without looking up.

"What do you mean, you did it?" Rodney grumbled as he finished untying Carson's hands and started on the bindings on his ankles. He was frustrated at not having yet received a straight answer from anybody. "Did what?"

"I'm responsible for what happened to Colonel Sheppard." Carson's voice sounded broken with the strain of his emotions. "T'was an accident, Rodney. I did'nae mean tae hurt him…"

"You can't be serious. You can't possibly be responsible for…"

Rodney's words trailed off into silence as Carson held up his hands. His skin had darkened, and thick patches of brown hair had begun to appear around his healing wrists and the backs of his hands. His nails had grown even darker, longer, and sharper than they had been just hours before. Carson's jaw was slack and hanging agape as he gasped breathlessly with fear and anxiety. And if Rodney was not mistaken, he could have sworn that he saw a tiny glint of firelight reflecting off of a set of fangs.


	9. A Convincing Argument

A/N: I'm going to try to finish this up in a few more chapters, but this thing just keeps wanting to get drawn out a little more. I don't know when I'll be able to post the next chapter, as I still have that term paper to work on. We'll see how things work out.

* * *

"What the…?" Rodney stammered in disbelief, blinking with confusion at the sight of Carson's beast-like hands. "What the hell happened to your hands?" 

"It's because of my retrovirus research," Carson explained wearily. "The Wraith have done somethin' to the retrovirus I developed, mutated it somehow."

"How?" he exclaimed emphatically, and then brought up his hand resignedly as he reconsidered his question. "No, never mind. I don't think I want to know."

Carson waited patiently as Rodney continued stammering, raising an eyebrow with surprise when his friend suddenly seemed to have been struck speechless.

"Carson…?" he said finally.

"Aye, Rodney?"

"You wouldn't…" he tried to ask, his hesitation betraying his anxiety at being in the presence of someone who was mutating into a monster, even if this person was his friend. "Uh… You wouldn't try to hurt me… would you?"

"Hurt you?" Carson repeated with narrowing eyes, shaking his head. He was scowling with disgust and reacting as if he'd just been slapped across the face. "O' course not! Why the bloody hell would I want tae hurt ye?"

"Well, it's just that…" Rodney began uncomfortably, feeling somewhat defensive. "You just admitted to being responsible for hurting Colonel Sheppard. Were those your claw-marks on his chest, or not?"

"Aye," Carson admitted solemnly, looking away shamefully once again. "They're mine. But I just told ye, t'was an accident. I was… confused. I thought that they were tryin' tae kill me. Is he alright?"

"I'm not sure. I think you should look at him." Rodney frowned warily and sat back, feeling somewhat more confident. "So you're not confused any more, then?"

"Well…" Carson began honestly, causing Rodney to give him a startled and worried look. He tried to quickly assuage his concerns, though. "Where are we? I have no idea where they've brought me."

"You're in the other camp," Rodney said dully as he climbed to his feet. It was a question simple enough to answer, at least. "There are two groups of them, if you haven't figured that out for yourself yet."

When Carson didn't immediately move to follow suit, Rodney became impatient. "What's wrong now?"

He seemed to think about it for a moment before he looked up. "Am I a prisoner here?"

"Of course you're not a prisoner," Rodney stated, as if the idea were utterly ridiculous. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Oh, him maybe," Carson said, indicating with a glace a watchful presence at the doorway of the hut; one of the locals had been observing them carefully from that vantage point. "That, and the fact that I was bound and gagged before bein' tossed in here."

Rodney dismissed Carson's concerns with a frustrated sigh, then pulled him to his feet and dragged him over to the doorway. There were still a few people by the fire outside, including Lo'Nan and Anara, who had not moved. They watched intently as Rodney continued to yank Carson along, but said nothing. With one final shove back into Lo'Nan's hut to where John still lied unconscious, Carson knelt down to examine him, assuming the professional aura expected of a doctor. It usually came naturally to him, but as he carefully shifted the bandages on John's chest to have a look under them, he found that he was still disturbed by the unaccustomed appearance of his hands.

"Well, there's naught much I can do without my medical kit," Carson reported after a moment, looking up at Rodney as he spoke. "But the bleedin' appears tae have stopped. He's covered in blood, though. He must've lost a lot, so it's no wonder he's fallen unconscious."

"Is he going to get better soon?" a tiny, timid voice spoke from behind them.

Rodney and Carson both turned at the same time to see that Jol'Nan was watching from the doorway, his parents standing close behind him. Fear and concern were etched on his face, and so Rodney tried to pat the boy's shoulder comfortingly.

"He'll be alright," Rodney stated more confidently than he actually felt, and tried to give the boy a smile before turning back to Carson. "He will be alright, won't he?"

"Aye, Lad, he'll be alright," Carson said assuredly, forcing a grin for the boy's benefit. "He just needs tae get his rest for now, an' hopefully he'll be up and 'round again sometime tomorrow."

Jol'Nan smiled happily at the reassurance, and then suddenly reached out a tiny hand toward Carson's face. His small fingers touched the point of one of his teeth, and he grimaced with the accompanying pain. His jaw was still tender, and Carson tried to gingerly turn his head away from the boy's touch without seeming too irritated. He hadn't realized that his smile had revealed how much his teeth had shifted.

"Does it hurt?" The boy seemed to acknowledge his discomfort by quickly removing his curious hand, much to Carson's relief.

"Aye, a bit," he replied, standing up out of the boy's reach. He then turned to face his parents. "Ye did a fine job bandagin' him up, but Colonel Sheppard could still be in danger of infection. Do ye have any of that herbal remedy that the kind people in the other camp used on me?"

Anara promptly picked Jol'Nan up in her arms and strode quickly from the hut, earning a perplexed expression from Rodney. Lo'Nan waited for her to leave before responding in a low voice, almost a growl. "No, we do not. We could not find any during the raid."

Carson's brow furrowed with confusion and annoyance. "Ye mean you attacked 'em tae steal their food _and_ their medicines?"

Lo'Nan tensed and growled at Carson furiously. The hair on his neck and arms bristled with contempt, but Rodney stepped in between them before it could come to blows. "Please, gentlemen! Let's not get too irate. We're all friends here, aren't we?"

"He fought beside them," Lo'Nan said slowly and deliberately, baring his fangs menacingly at Carson. "I do not trust him."

"You trust me, don't you?" Rodney asked desperately. He stared imploringly at Lo'Nan, trying to draw his attention away from his perceived enemy. When Lo'Nan looked down at him and visibly calmed a bit, he let out a hesitant breath of relief. "You can trust him, too."

Their host relaxed a little more, but said nothing as he turned and left the hut to return to the comfort of the fire and his family. The rain had waned into a light drizzle, and more of his people were coming out to join them and chat. Rodney turned back to Carson and sighed heavily.

"Nice going, dummy," Rodney said irritably, punching Carson hard in the arm. "You nearly got me ripped in half."

Carson rubbed absently at the resultant sting, but did not feel like arguing.

* * *

Morning seemed to come very quickly for Rodney, although not so quickly for Carson. He had spent most of the night sitting at Rodney's side while he slept, wondering what had driven the camp which they currently resided in to hate the other so much. He had almost begun to consider those people his friends when John had come for him, and he had begun to feel quite fond of Nia. As short a time as he had known her, he found that he missed her company already, and he wished that she had been there with him. 

But now, as the sun peeked over the horizon in the distance and filled the sky with hues of violet, Carson drew himself up from the spot where he had dozed and stretched out. He and Rodney had taken refuge in the hut that their hosts had originally stowed Carson rather than risk provoking another confrontation. As he pulled the cloth at the entrance aside to step through, Rodney stirred sleepily and rolled over onto his stomach to avoid the light.

After properly relieving himself just outside of the camp, he decided to have a good look around now that the daylight illuminated the sky. He wandered aimlessly through the camp mostly ignored, but a few people looked up at him from their breakfast with distrustful glances. The camp was fairly similar to the other in most respects, like construction and layout, and if he had not spent so much time there, he might not have been able to tell them apart at first glace.

He was startled as someone hastily pulled him aside by the arm, but he took a deep and calming breath as he realized it was Rodney. He must have accidentally woken him up when he left.

"Are you trying to get us in trouble again?" Rodney whispered with annoyance.

"Sorry," he replied sheepishly, allowing Rodney to draw him around the periphery of the camp. "I did'nae want to wake ye."

"Well, lucky for you that I did," Rodney chastised angrily, then made a motion with his head, indicating a direction behind him. "Lo'Nan is over there. I think he's been waiting."

"Waiting for what?" Carson asked as they approached Lo'Nan's hut together.

But before Rodney could respond, Lo'Nan caught sight of them and nodded a terse greeting. "McKay, I am glad you are awake. Sheppard is awake now, too."

He led them inside to see their friend and leader. Jol'Nan was giggling as he sat precariously balanced on John's legs, and was being tickled ferociously. John was trying to be careful not to re-open his wounds, but sat back and relaxed upon receiving a protective frown from the doctor in the group.

"Carson!" he exclaimed with a fatigued smile. "I'm glad you're here. You seem to be feeling better."

"Aye," Carson said hesitantly, absently rubbing his neck and trying to force a wry smile at the same time. "You seem tae be feelin' better as well, I see. I'm glad I did'nae end up doin' permanent damage to ye. I'm sorry about that."

"Don't worry about it," John said, almost convincingly confident. "It was an accident, right?"

"Oh, aye, absolutely an accident," Carson assured him, lowering his eyes guiltily.

A long moment passed quietly after Carson and Rodney sat down, but Jol'Nan was not perturbed by the silence. He had decided to sit in Rodney's lap for a while instead of continuing to risk John's health, and as he again played his stalk-and-pounce game with him, Rodney turned to Carson with the most exasperated expression he could muster. But Carson wasn't about to offer up any assistance, and instead simply sat back and watched with amusement. It had felt like forever since he had been able to manage a genuine smile.

"So, Lo'Nan," John began. He didn't really like uncomfortable silences. "I was wondering... What you can tell me about this other camp?"

"What do you want to know?" Lo'Nan responded flatly.

"Well, I'm kind of curious as to why you raided their camp." John was hesitant to be so blunt, but was never very good at subtlety. "Aren't there enough resources to go around for everyone?"

Lo'Nan looked up at John curiously, but did answer. "We will not share our food with thieves. Those food stores that they stole a few days ago are meant to last us through the winter, and when it comes, we intend to survive it."

"Desperate people sometimes resort to desperate measures," John said solemnly. "I'm sure life here isn't easy for anyone in either camp, but have you considered that maybe you'd have better luck resisting the Wraith hunting parties if your two camps worked together?"

"Impossible," Lo'Nan stated angrily, but held back his temper. "You do not know them, Sheppard."

"What about those medicines that they seem to have access to?" John argued persistently. He tried to sit up straighter, and grimaced with the pain that the effort caused him. "Wouldn't it be better to trade for it rather than risk the well-being of your people with raids on their camp?"

Lo'Nan said nothing, and was seething with more anger, but John had to press him further. "Carson was there, and I remember that he said they were kind to him. We might even be able help you to negotiate terms with them."

Rising to his feet, Lo'Nan's temper began to flare, and he growled at John menacingly. "We did not start this. I will not trade with the likes of _them_!"

"Do you even know why your camps fight any more?" John insisted pointedly when he saw that Lo'Nan would not give him a straight answer. "Whoever started raiding who first for whatever reason doesn't matter. Like I said, desperate people do desperate things to survive. And what about the rest of your people? Don't you think they deserve the opportunity to have peaceful relations and trade with their neighbors? Aren't you tired of constantly having to fight with them?"

The last part seemed to hit Lo'Nan hard, and his shoulders slumped with the release of tension as he pondered what John had said. He simply could not refute the logic of his words. "Yes... I'm tired."

But before John could drive his point home, a howl echoed eerily through the camp. Lo'Nan's eyes grew wide and he immediately jumped to his feet, his anger over the reality of John's harsh words forgotten. "We are about to be attacked!"


	10. Sympathy Pains

A/N: This is probably not going to get updated again for at least one week. Sorry, guys. I know you're loving it, but unfortunately, my term paper is whumping me harder than I'm whumping Carson, Rodney, and John combined at this point. I sooooo ready for a vacation. :(

* * *

Lo'Nan rushed outside, followed closely by Rodney and Carson. People were running about in various directions, preparing themselves for the onslaught from the enemy camp. But Lo'Nan stood virtually motionless, slowly moving his head from side to side, scanning the trees with determined eyes and exceptional hearing.

As seconds ticked past, Rodney could detect no movement or sounds whatsoever. But Carson's hearing also seemed to be immeasurably improved, as Rodney had already suspected, because he suddenly took off at full sprint toward one side of the camp and skidded to a halt behind a small cluster of gnarled shrubs. He raised his hands high in the air, calling out to someone that Rodney could not see.

"Please stop!" he shouted desperately. "Bloody hell, ye have tae stop this before ye all kill each other!"

But as Carson was pleading with the attackers about to make their move, Lo'Nan had been gathering up a few friends, and was organizing a perimeter of defense around the parts of the camp that they were most desperate to protect. As a few more of them came to stand proudly and defiantly at Lo'Nan's side, Rodney spied Colonel Sheppard on his feet, lurking in the doorway of the hut and leaning against the door's frame for support. He watched the growing crowd, noting with some trepidation that not one of them seemed too old or gray to fight, as most of them had appeared just the day before.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Rodney protested, stepping close so John could hear over the murmuring of the crowd of defenders. "You're not about to try something stupid, are you?"

"I have to, Rodney," John said coldly, pushing himself away from the doorway unsteadily as he watched a well-muscled and clawed hand reach out for Carson from behind the shrubbery, pulling him out of sight. He began to step forward slowly at first, willing himself to move against the pain as he clenched his teeth tightly against it. "They're going to continue fighting unless I do something."

"If they're stupid enough not to listen to reason, then just let them— _hey_!" Rodney argued, but was interrupted as John pushed past him defiantly. Rodney could do nothing but stare back at him with disbelief. "They're going to _kill you _this time!"

John ignored him, and did not turn back. He didn't notice as Rodney doubled over in pain. He didn't see the labored breathing and clenched jaw as he collapsed to the ground, writhing with pain, and instead remained intent on heading for Lo'Nan, who was almost within his reach. John nearly stumbled before reaching him, but was determined not to let the situation continue without doing something about it.

"You can't let this continue, Lo'Nan," John pleaded breathlessly, firmly grabbing hold of his shoulder. "You told me that you were tired of it. Don't make the same mistake over and over again!"

"It is too late for that!" he snapped, shrugging John's hand off from his shoulder. "They are the ones attacking _us_!"

"And it's because you pissed them off with that raid last night!" John shouted angrily. "How many times have you raided them for the same, pointless reason?"

Lo'Nan turned and glared at him furiously. "What do you expect me to do, Sheppard? Simply allow them to ransack our camp?"

"No," John said, suddenly unsure of himself. He desperately grasped for more words, but could think of nothing else to say that might make Lo'Nan listen to reason.

A hushed silence fell over the defenders as they waited for the command of their leader to attack. But before it came, desperate voices began to filter through the trees, and as John listened carefully, he recognized one of them as belonging to Carson.

A feminine voice spoke first. Her voice was faint, but still audible. "If they hurt you, I will make them pay dearly."

"Just let me talk to 'em for ye!" Carson pleaded from out of sight. "It does'nae have to be like this!"

"I will have vengeance!" a lower, harsher voice roared in response. "How can you ask me to be lenient on them after what they've done to you and the rest of our camp?"

It was all Lo'Nan needed, though. He had homed in on the source of the voices long before John, and the front-most group of them was preparing to leap over the shrubs to attack. Without regard to his own safety, John stepped forward into their line of attack, placing himself close to the bushes in between them and their quarry.

"Stop!" he yelled fervently. "All of you, just stop! If you really want to fight, go ahead. But you'll have to go through me to do it."

Carson had managed to take a few steps back away from the other group, and was suddenly standing back to back with John when he spoke. "Aye, that goes for me, too."

All eyes were on them, and no one dared move a muscle for what seemed like a long time. Lo'Nan seemed to be thinking about Sheppard's ultimatum carefully, and looked like he was waiting to see what the raiders would do first. There was no question that he intended to confront them, should they decide to attack. John found himself hoping that Carson was a good judge of character and that his claim that the other camp had been kind to him had not been misguided, or else they could wind up being slashed to shreds in just a few seconds if the situation deteriorated much further.

A pained groan echoed from behind them, and they both whirled around to see that Rodney was lying on the ground and writhing in pain. John was stunned and confused, but Carson suspected that he knew what was happening.

"Rodney!" Carson shouted with alarm, and then began to move toward him, but was stopped by John's firm hand on his shoulder. "What do ye think you're doin'? Let me go, he needs me!"

The crowd had turned their attention away from their enemies to see what the newcomers were fretting about, and in that moment of distraction, John caught a glimpse of a huge creature leaping from the trees. It had obviously decided to press its advantage while it had the chance. Carson had also seen it, and his newly heightened instincts had instantly made it clear who the creature's target was. He reacted in an instant, and was only vaguely aware of the danger he was in as he moved quickly to put himself between the creature and Lo'Nan.

Propelling Lo'Nan out of harm's way, he looked up just in time to see the creature barreling through the air, claws drawn and ready to use, just before it landed on him. He felt himself being thrust against the ground hard and was momentarily too stunned to move. He was unsure of how long he had laid there as he slowly came back to his senses. With a cautious glance around, he saw that Tregan was still standing over him, staring down at him and snarling angrily with annoyance. Blood was streaming from his shoulder, but he felt no pain, only the hot wetness against his skin as it soaked into his shirt and dripped off his arm onto the ground.

The next thing he knew, Nia was next to him and was growling angrily at his attacker. Carson watched as Tregan warily and reluctantly backed off, and she reached down to cup his face in her hands, looking down into his eyes to determine his state of awareness. He had watched the interchange between them curiously, and was wondering once more why Tregan had suddenly decided to spare him when Nia had come to his aid. But as she helped him up into a sitting position, all concern for the matter dissipated when she then pulled him into her arms in a comforting embrace, and he felt himself gratefully returning the kind gesture.

Tregan was obviously not happy though, and Carson watched idly as he stormed away angrily into the depths of the forest. The crowd around them had been rendered speechless by Carson's display of bravery, including John, when he reached up with his good arm and clutched at her desperately.

"Please, Nia," he begged her solemnly. "Stop these senseless attacks. No good will ever come from all this if it continues."

Nia continued to stare down at him disbelievingly, not quite comprehending why he would willingly place himself in harm's way just to stop her from destroying the enemy. "Why, Carson? Why would you do this?"

"Because it needs tae stop!" he affirmed insistently, and then reached up to cautiously touch her face. "I don't want tae see you _or _them suffer any more."

"Lo'Nan," John said suddenly. "Tell her what you told me."

Lo'Nan straightened his posture adamantly, and for a moment, John was worried that he wouldn't be capable of admitting his frustration to his perceived enemy. But that fear was soon put to rest as Lo'Nan proved himself to be a true leader of his people. John understood all too well how difficult a responsibility it was.

"I'm tired of it," he whispered coldly to Nia, catching a glimpse of John's expectant glare. "If you will stop, I will stop."

Nia's gaze hardened and shifted slowly from Carson to Lo'Nan as she slowly rose to her feet, and she carefully considered his words for a long moment before a response came. "We have been fighting for many months now. It won't be easy."

"Nevertheless, I hate the Wraith more than I hate you and Noraan," Lo'Nan snarled angrily as he stepped closer, his words dripping with contempt. "And if halting our war means that we will all finally be able to escape this God-forsaken place, then so be it."

She seemed surprised by him, but no longer quite so angry. With a terse nod of agreement, everyone who had been waiting for the attack breathed a hesitant sigh of relief before beginning to mill about and make introductions. A few stubborn warriors lingered protectively near the huts containing stores of food, but no outright conflict had been instigated, much to John's relief. But the relief was short-lived as his adrenaline faded and a wave of dizziness nearly overtook him, causing his knees to buckle. If not for Lo'Nan's quick reflexes, he might have collapsed where he stood.

He was slowly lowered to the ground, and when Carson caught a glimpse of it, he anxiously rushed over to examine him, his own injury forgotten. Feeling John's neck to for a steady pulse, Carson nearly yanked his hand back with shock at the heat that radiated from him. A high fever was apparently the reason that John had felt faint.

"His wound is likely infected," Carson explained to Lo'Nan tentatively, who had remained on John's other side. "He has a fever."

"Well, he's not the only who isn't feeling very good at the moment," gasped a weak voice from behind him.

"Rodney!" Carson exclaimed guiltily as he jumped to his feet and moved toward him. "I plum near forgot about ye! What's wrong?"

"Pain," he responded simply, grunting with the effort it cost him to speak.

Carson hesitantly leaned down to look at Rodney's hands, and then sighed heavily as he saw the evidence that confirmed his fears over his friend's condition. Rodney's fingernails had already grown blackened, and the cuticles were becoming discolored. He was changing, exactly as Carson had begun to change himself just the day before. Carson's heart sank, and a concerned frown graced his features.

"Oh, no..." Rodney's voice cracked with tension. "Don't you dare give me that look! You know what's happening to me, don't you?"

"Aye, Rodney," he confirmed sullenly, his frown deepening even more. "I think I do."

Rodney's face contorted and twisted with not only pain, but fear now. "Am... am I going to die?"

"No," Carson sighed exasperatedly as he heavily took a seat at Rodney's side. "You're not goin' tae die."

"Well, _what_ is it then? What's wrong with me?" he demanded insistently.

Carson held up his left hand in front of Rodney's face. "By about this time tomorrow, your hands are likely goin' tae look like mine."

Rodney buried his face in his arms, stifling a terrified whimper, and Carson had only sympathy for him. He knew that it would probably be more difficult for him to deal with since he knew exactly what was going to happen to him. But they were obviously both undergoing the change now, and there was nothing either of them could do about it.


	11. A Daring Plan

A/N: Yeah, sorry guys. I know it's been a while since I posted, but here ya go... I finished "What Have I Done?" and so now I present to you a new chapter here as well! Hope you're enjoying the suspense!

* * *

Radek Zelenka rubbed tiredly at his eyes. He'd only managed to get a few hours of sleep before Dr. Weir had ordered the briefing in which he and the remaining senior staff manning the city were now in attendance. The same circles that ringed his eyes graced both Teyla's and Dr. Weir's as well, and he wished that he had something to say that could've alleviated some of the stress and worry that was afflicting his friends, but there had been none. The only one who didn't seem thoroughly exhausted was Ronon, but as good as he was at hiding his fatigue, the others at the table knew him better than to think that he did not also suffer with them. 

"Whoever designed the device did a very thorough job of encoding the information within it," he explained tiredly, pushing his glasses back up further along the bridge of his nose. "I cannot break the encryption algorithm, not without many, many weeks of computational processing. And by then…"

No one blamed him for being unwilling to finish those dreaded words. No one wanted to accept that it might be too late Colonel Sheppard, Dr. McKay, and Dr. Beckett already. Dr. Weir rubbed at her chin, trying to push the exhaustion out of mind.

"Do we have any options or alternatives?" Dr. Weir addressed the question to no one in particular, but the expressions of those around her remained uncharacteristically aloof.

"Of course we do," Ronon chimed in unexpectedly, turning expectantly to Zelenka. "You can turn that thing back on, can't you?"

Everyone's eyes shifted to Zelenka, then to Ronon, then back.

"Well," Radek began furtively. "Yes, I can."

Ronon's eyes tracked back to Dr. Weir. "Send me through."

Radek scoffed disbelievingly, shaking his head and trying not to offend the Satedan too much with his harsh words. "Ronon, even if I could manage to make the device think that you have the gene, that's _suicide_."

"If we want them back, we may not have much of a choice any more," Teyla reluctantly agreed.

"Give me one of your homing beacons and send me through," he affirmed plainly, not moving a muscle. "I can take care of myself until the ship can track us down."

Dr. Weir sighed, her brows furrowing. "You do realize, Ronon, that we have no idea what kind of resistance you might encounter wherever you end up, don't you?"

"Yeah," Ronon confirmed simply.

"If the Wraith are behind this, it may very well be suicide," she said with great trepidation. She didn't want to rashly risk Ronon's life in this manner, but there were no other options available to them at the moment, and if he was willingly volunteering himself, the idea did have some hope of succeeding. "And there's no way of telling for sure how far the _Daedalus_ will have to travel in order to find you. Are you sure you understand the risks?"

"Does that mean you're actually going to let him do this?" Radek asked incredulously. He could hardly believe that she was considering the ludicrousness of the whole idea.

"If they've been taken just because of the gene, then it's probably safe to say that Colonel Sheppard, Dr. McKay, and Dr. Beckett are still alive, and I don't think they'd immediately kill Ronon, either," Dr. Weir explained logically. "Can you do it, Radek?"

He sighed and frowned, but did not argue further. "Yes, I think so. I'll need a couple of hours to put the device back together, though."

"Then do it. Give Ronon a sub-space transmitter, and inform Colonel Caldwell to stand by at the planet for coordinates once you're ready to activate the device."

* * *

John was thankful that Rodney's pain hadn't lasted long. He wasn't sure how much longer he could've stood by and simply sat and watched as his friend writhed on the floor of the hut. Carson had stayed by his side, not that there was much that he could do for him. But now, between John's infection and fever, Rodney's pain, and a decisive lack of healing herb to go around, it was John himself that had kept Carson the busiest. 

When a squabble between members of the two different camps had broken out, Carson had been quick to act in order to stop it before it came to blows, and somehow, John remarked to himself that Carson seemed to appear less human with each passing minute. The dark clumps hair on his wrists that had appeared patchy earlier that day were now fully mane-like, and had spread up his chest, arms, and neck, and had made his short, but dark and gruff beard appear thicker and more fur-like. He was truly beginning to look like he would fit in with the creatures that lived in these camps quite well.

There just wasn't enough time. Struggling to prop himself up on his elbows despite the chills that the fever was giving him, John motioned to speak with Lo'Nan. Carson had gone to help Anara retrieve more water from the well, but had returned quickly and was just behind Lo'Nan. Rodney dozed huddled up uncomfortably in another corner of the cramped hut, and was woken up by their conversation, but said nothing.

"I think we should organize a raid on the compound as quickly as possible," John said to Lo'Nan weakly. "If we don't focus our efforts on escaping from the Wraith quickly enough, I'm concerned that the suspension of hostilities between your camps won't last very long."

"I would tend to agree," Lo'Nan affirmed reluctantly, settling down to sit at John's side.

John swallowed against the taste of bile in his mouth. "I think we should act tonight."

"You're in no condition to do any fighting tonight, Colonel," Carson said firmly and protectively while he helped to set up a pot of water to boil over the fire.

"Nevertheless, he has a point," Lo'Nan said softly. "We do not have much time to act before our attempt to form an alliance fails. Our camps have been fighting for a long time now, and if we do not band against the Wraith quickly, our warring will not be forgotten."

"If you fight, you'll reopen the wound on your chest," Carson explained irritably, unwilling to negotiate. "Not to mention the fact that your fever is too—"

John and Rodney both watched in horror as Carson's face contorted with an expression of pure pain and anguish as he fell to his hands and knees. John sat up straight through the pain, but his aching body would not permit him to go to Carson's aid. Rodney went to his aid, though, and held his head steady as he thrashed about for a few moments, and then was still. It had seemed to be over far too quickly for Carson to have suffered from another spell of pain himself, but as he sat up, he panted heavily against the lingering discomfort.

Carson's skin itched everywhere, and his jaw again felt as if he'd just been kicked in the face by a horse. It took him a few moments to realize that the reason everyone was staring at him so strangely now was because his transformation into a beastly image of a man had just completed itself. Rodney shivered with apprehension as Carson looked up at him with eyes that seemed to glow red.

* * *

Nia had gone to retrieve what assistance she could from the rest of her camp some time ago, and now Lo'Nan, Carson, Rodney, and John all waited among the trees just out of sight of the compound's rear door for them to arrive. It had been a struggle for John to walk with them there, but he had done his best not to show his discomfort and shivering as Rodney helped to keep him steady on his feet. 

Only the softest of footfalls had given away Nia's group as they made their approach, and even Noraan had managed to muster the strength to follow them into the depths of the compound that had treated them all so cruelly. He limped forward with Nia's aid and the aid of a strong walking stick, and Carson then realized why Tregan, and not Noraan, had always led the raids on their enemy camp. Noraan was lame.

Even Anara and Jol'Nan had come to make their stand, despite the danger. Lo'Nan had smiled proudly when his son had spoken of his desire to assist his father, and had originally planned to have Anara and Jol'Nan to watch over the entrance, but had come to the realization that if their plan was to succeed, that they should all escape together, or none would. Tonight would be the night that their freedom would be either won or lost, and it would be done as a single people united, just as it should always have been.

"Looks like just about everyone made it," John said feebly as he peered around at the myriad of beastly faces that surrounded him, and then turned to Rodney. "Are you ready try the door again?"

Rodney sighed, then handed John over to Carson's care, and remarked to himself that at least he did not seem to struggle so much to support the burden of John's weight. Deftly ripping the panel from the door's entryway, he cross-circuited a few wires until the panel shorted. The resultant click was exactly the same as he had heard last time, and Rodney found himself hoping that it was the last parallel to their previous attempt at breaking in that they were to encounter.

Lo'Nan and a few of his stronger friends stepped forward to pry the sliding doors apart, then hesitantly stepped back to peer into the ensuing darkness before cautiously entering. The architecture was plain steel, spartanly laid out with no paint, nor even sheetrock wall panels placed to cover the clusters of ducts and pipes overlaying the walls everywhere. The darkness parted in the distance to a well-placed, but ill-powerful light bulb that illuminated a section of walkway.

John fearlessly stepped forward, continuing to ignore his discomfort, and Rodney, Carson, Lo'Nan, and Nia followed close behind. There were no Wraith, nor any of their human worshippers in sight, but that did not mean that they weren't lurking in some dark corner, waiting to ambush them. But so far, no alarms or sirens had sounded.

A shot from a Wraith weapon streaked through the darkness, nearly catching John on the shoulder. He backpedaled away from the railing unsteadily, but caught his balance just in time to see a glimpse of a Wraith warrior on a floor far below them, who promptly ran toward the wall. It manipulated a control panel, and suddenly all around them, alarms began to blaze. _So much for sneaking in._

"Everybody, move!" he shouted irritably, and then began to jog across to the other side of the walkway. Upon arriving at a confusing crossroads of intersecting corridors, he could not be sure which way to run. He began pointing and motioning, dividing the raiders up into teams, trying to make their haphazard group into some semblance of order. "You, you, you, and you, split up and find the Stargate! Report back here in a few minutes! We'll hold them off!"

More Wraith warriors appeared from other corridors, and mass chaos ensued as beasts threw their bodies against them, fighting viciously for their freedom. Then suddenly, a shadowy figure that had lurked unnoticed at the rear of the group appeared and turned on Lo'Nan, sinking his claws deep into the flesh of his back. Yelping with pain, Lo'Nan tried to fight back, but was put at a severe disadvantage by the injury.

"Tregan! No!" Carson yelled at the top of his lungs, but his warning went unheeded. With a snarl that frightened John, Carson threw himself at the shadowy creature and sent it flying back against the walkway railing, over which it toppled in a flurry of desperate grasping, to no avail. Tregan plummeted level after level down to the bottom-most floor, landing back first. He lied there for a moment before he miraculously picked himself up off the floor, just before being quickly surrounded by a dozen Wraith. They attempted to tackle him, but despite his profuse bleeding and injuries, he threw them off of him and ran.

A group of scouts returned a moment later and motioned with their claws in the direction of one of the corridors. "We found the Stargate! This way!"

But the scouts were promptly cut down by a rain of weapons fire from a group of Wraith that had managed to circle around behind them. Beastly bodies were being stunned into unconsciousness left and right, and before long, the only ones who remained standing were John, Rodney, and Carson. When a Wraith stepped forward brandishing his stunner menacingly, Carson snarled and stepped protectively in front of his friends. The gesture earned him a shot in the chest from their weapons, and he fell at their feet.

John and Rodney's hands were bound behind their backs, and then were promptly led to a cell where they were made to wait for their fate. Little did they know that in the very next cell, the unconscious form of Ronon Dex also waited for his fate.


	12. Death and Suffering

A/N: I know I've tempted you guys with little hints, and today with chapter 12 we are about to get a few more details! Just a couple more chapters to go, I think...

* * *

Carson had still been unconscious when the Wraith had tossed him outside into the darkness of night. He was in a great amount of pain when he woke to the sensation of tender stroking along his furry cheeks and hair, and it soothed the lingering itching that remained under his skin. When his eyelids slowly parted, he looked up into the worried face of Nia. It was she who was petting him gently.

"Nia…?" he muttered weakly, trying to sit up, but she restrained him with a gentle, but firm hand.

"Don't try to move yet," she said softly, soothingly, then turned to glare angrily at someone behind her.

It was then that Carson registered that an argument was occurring in the background, and it was apparently going on between Lo'Nan and Noraan. They were standing face to face just behind Nia, and they looked angry enough that Carson suspected they might be about to kill each other. Noraan seemed outwardly calm, but Lo'Nan's fists were balled up and his shoulders were tense and rigid.

"We should've known better than to trust _you_ with our safety," Noraan snarled at Lo'Nan angrily, sputtering with contempt. "Now many are dead because of the Wraith feedings, and _you_ are responsible for it!"

"How am I responsible for what the Wraith have done?" Lo'Nan growled incredulously, stepping closer.

"This was your idea!" Noraan shouted furiously. "My people would not be in this position if it were not for you!"

"This was supposed to be our great escape from this place, you ungrateful fool!" Lo'Nan was now equally furious, and his fists clenched and unclenched slowly.

"Just as it was when I was maimed by your stupidity!" Noraan snapped. "Or do you still deny your part in that, too?"

Lo'Nan stood immobile and stared Noraan down as angrily as Carson had ever seen him. Unwilling to allow the argument to continue further, Carson rose to his feet despite Nia's quiet protests and pushed himself between the two leaders. His breathing was ragged and harsh, but he withstood the pain he suffered for their sake.

"Stop all this bickerin', both of ye!" Carson gasped painfully, but firmly. "It's nobody's fault that we failed ta escape. If ye want ta be angry at someone for it, then be angry at the Wraith."

Silence enveloped the forest around them, and no one dared to speak another word. Carson scratched absently at an itch on his chest. But when he looked down at himself, he realized why he felt so weak and was in such pain. There was a new feeding mark on his chest. Looking around at the hairy people around him, most, if not all, also had new feeding marks, as well as numerous streaks of gray hair in their fur.

He was really starting to get annoyed and tired of the Wraith, and as the anger and frustration seeped up within him, it wasn't difficult to understand how easy it had been for the two camps to become enemies. It's too easy sometimes to take your frustrations and anger out on those who should be your friends when your enemies seem to be out of reach.

Lo'Nan had continued to stand still and rigid as a board, and Noraan continued to glare back at him in silence until Nia came to his side and urged him to give up his anger and rest. But Noraan would not back down, and was unwilling to move first.

"I will _not_ sit!" Noraan exclaimed proudly and stubbornly. "Not with _him_!"

"What is this all about, anyway?" Carson pleaded incredulously, placing a firm hand on the man's shoulder, which was trembling with pent up rage. "What's he done?"

"He betrayed me," Noraan growled fiercely, then spat on the ground in front of Lo'Nan. "He maimed me, and then left me to the Wraith."

"What's he talkin' about?" Carson asked confusedly, turning to Lo'Nan.

Lo'Nan still had not moved an inch. The muscles in his jaw tensed, and his lips trembled with what seemed to be a mixture of regret, shame, and anger. Finally, after a long moment of contemplation, he spoke softly and neutrally. "Yes. It was my fault, Noraan. It was my fault that you were injured, and it was my fault that you were taken by the Wraith."

Noraan had not expected that response to his accusations, and his brows furrowed with surprise and confusion. Carson's gaze shifted back and forth between the two leaders warily.

"Perhaps I was foolish to believe that we could defeat the Wraith and escape this place," Lo'Nan said despondently, turning away and showing his clawed back to them with shame. "It was not my idea this time. I followed Sheppard because I'd had hope that his plan would succeed. And now he is a prisoner of the Wraith, and I've done it again."

"Tregan should have killed you when he had the chance," Noraan spat lowly and angrily, then turned and limped away, finally giving in to Nia's quiet demands that he sit and rest himself.

Lo'Nan strode off into the forest and did not show his face again for the rest of the night. Carson could not help but wonder what he could possibly have done for Noraan to be so angry at him. He was glad, he mused quietly to himself, that at least the fighting between the members of the two camps had not yet been renewed. They were all still far too tired and weak for that.

It had only been a few minutes after Carson had sat back down himself to rest that the door to the compound had opened once more, admitting two Wraith warriors dragging a disheveled and bloodied creature that resembled Tregan. They carelessly dumped him onto the ground and promptly left.

Blood oozed from cuts and deep lacerations all over his broken body, as well as from a gruesome feeding mark in the center of his chest, and Carson gasped with disgust and shock despite how horribly bad-tempered the man had acted toward him. As he cautiously approached the battered man, he forced himself into a more professionally sound state of mind and formed a quick assessment of his condition.

He was still breathing… barely. Each gasp for air was pained and labored, and Tregan drew in each breath as if any moment it could be his last. Despite the gray and frail appearance he now displayed, his arms twisted underneath him in a futile attempt to push himself upright. Carson grasped his wrists, trying to prevent him from further injuring himself.

"Nia," Tregan whispered with great effort, trying to fight off Carson's unwanted assistance, but was still growing weaker with each passing moment. "Where is Nia? Nia!"

"I'm here," she whispered softly, moving to his other side. Glancing up at Carson, his grim expression did not assuage her fear and concern, and her lips were pursed together firmly in an effort to control and conceal her trembling.

Tregan reached out blindly, grasping for her. She took his hand in hers, and as she held it, he relaxed and stopped struggling against Carson's ministrations.

"I'm sorry, Nia," Tregan begged, his face contorting into an expression of regret and sorrow that Carson had never seen on him before. "I wish… that I could've…"

"Don't say that," she ordered firmly, her face shifting and displaying a myriad of emotions. "You're not going to die. You can't die."

He took a deep breath, and his eyes became serene. "I would have given you children."

Tregan's chest did not rise again after the last remnants of his breath were expelled from his lungs. The lines of his face softened and smoothed, and his eyes became unfocused and glassy, unwavering.

Nia began to sob softly, and Carson was at a loss to console her. Placing a tender arm around her shoulder, he allowed her to settle against him, and allowed her tears to wet the tattered remains of his black t-shirt.

Off in the distance, thunder rumbled across a dark midnight sky as dawn began to rise in violet streaks stretching across the horizon. The coming day promised more rain.

* * *

Neither he nor Rodney had managed to get any sleep. The light was simply too bright and imposing to sleep, and rather than allow themselves to allow themselves to be lulled by the hum of the lighting, they instead sat and talked. Rodney had told him of when he'd been stuck in a similar cell the day before, and had seemed immensely grateful that at least he wasn't all alone this time. If he was finally going to go crazy, at least John would be able to see it for himself, and maybe even snap him out of it.

But any comfort that Rodney had managed to save knowing that he'd have company in his misery were soon dashed as the lights blinked out, and then a scuffling noise and restraining arms and hands invaded the cell. And when Rodney's eyes adjusted to the sudden restoration of light, he found himself alone. Panic and fear planted itself firmly in his chest, and Rodney began to feel like he wanted to cry. John was gone.

* * *

John had been drugged, unceremoniously dragged along, and then limply slung over onto an examination table and restrained. Breathing in short, quick gasps, he couldn't even speak. Not that he'd had much to say except to give his captors an attitude.

Attempting to control his ragged breathing and rising panic, John refused to allow himself to slip into a helpless state of despair when he heard the clink of instrumentation being brought to his side, just as both Carson and Rodney had described to him. But as he waited, the needle did not come. If he'd been able to pry his eyes open to find out what they were waiting for, he would have done so, but the drug still held him firmly in its numbing grip.

More shuffling echoed through the room; it sounded as if someone else was being dragged. Muffled grunts echoed off the walls, and if the poor soul that had been brought in was about to join him in his fate, John pitied him. He couldn't decide if it would have been a blessing or a curse if the person might have also known what that fate would be in store for them both. But as a male Wraith voice permeated the relative silence of the room, he was quickly assured that this new person probably had no idea.

"We know who you are," the Wraith whispered smugly. Its footsteps echoed eerily off the walls as it seemed to circle the prisoner. "You will tell us how you came here, or this one will suffer for your insolence."

"You seem intent on making him suffer anyway," a gruff and familiar voice responded defiantly.

_Ronon?!_ John was aghast with shock.

The Wraith hissed its displeasure, and then John heard movement around him. A syringe was pressed into his arm.

Ronon growled furiously, and John could hear him struggling against the Wraith holding him. Silence then ensued, and a few moments later, he felt the pain. It bubbled up from deep in his gut, and then burst like flames over his entire body. His back arched, and a deafening and horrific scream was let loose from his lungs.

Again, Ronon howled with rage, but the Wraith held him fast.

Minutes crept past as the licks of flame bit and gnawed at John's flesh. To him, it almost felt like hours. And then finally, sweetly, it ebbed and flowed until the lancing pain turned to a dull throb. Silence permeated the room, cut only by the sounds of his harsh breathing.

"We are not finished with him yet," the Wraith taunted Ronon evilly. "There are many more sessions like this planned for him, and unless you tell us what we want to know, he will continue to suffer."

Rough hands grasped for his restrained wrists and ankles, and then dragged him off of the table. He was dragged back through the cold corridors and thrown back into a cell. _Damn that light!_ John thought to himself irritably. The brightness above him even leaked through his eyelids.

The redness that blinded him was suddenly shadowed, and John felt hands pulling him onto his back.

"Sheppard? Are you alright?" called the concerned voice of Rodney McKay.

John couldn't respond even if he'd wanted to.


	13. Homeward Bound

A/N: Just one more chapter to go. I might be able to write it today... we'll see. I'm anxious to start writing "The Emerald Wanderer", so I had better finish this soon. :)

* * *

The task of burying Tregan and the couple of others who had died as a direct result of the feedings had been daunting at best. Carson had just settled Nia comfortably in a hut, and she had fallen into a restless and fitful slumber that no amount of embracing or gentle caressing could calm. Lo'Nan had dutifully returned, and was hard at work at his side, helping him bury the dead in a respectful silence. 

He was glad that they had decided to perform the burial quickly, because the thunder had soon brewed into a raging windstorm that hammered and pelted them with stinging droplets of rain by the time they were done. People passed by, occasionally stopping for a moment to say a few quiet words or prayers for the dead, but for the most part, it seemed like people were trying to forget about the events of the past evening.

Stretching out his aching back, Carson slung the last shovelful of dirt and slowly began to make his way back to Lo'Nan's camp. Even Jol'Nan and his childish playfulness seemed subdued as he played with a delicately carved wooden toy in the hut, and when he eventually came to Carson's side by the warmth of the fire in the center, he found himself at a loss for words to reassure the boy.

"Are Mr. Sheppard and Mr. McKay lost?" he asked innocently as he sat down next to him.

"Aye, Lad," Carson replied simply, looking away and peering down at his hairy wrists and hands. "They're lost."

"Maybe my daddy or Uncle Noraan can find them." Jol'Nan idly scratched at an itch on his jaw with an expression that reminded Carson of the boy's father. It made him smile. "They're great trackers, you know."

"Noraan is your uncle?" Carson asked casually, peering at him curiously

The boy smiled, nodding emphatically. "Daddy was a great soldier in the army, and he protected Uncle Noraan when he worked in the senate."

_From the mouths of babes,_ Carson thought to himself, and then covertly pressed the boy for more information. "So why is Noraan angry with him, then?"

The boy looked down sadly and his expression turned solemn, but he answered. "Uncle Noraan got hurt when Daddy couldn't stop the Wraith from killing everybody. That's why he can't walk very well. After that, the Wraith brought us here."

Seeing how sad the boy seemed to feel, Carson was now sorry that he'd asked. "I guess ye missed your uncle then, did ye?"

Jol'Nan nodded slowly, and then sat down in Carson's lap and wrapped his arms around him. Carson patted the boy's back affectionately.

"Don't you worry, Lad," he assured the boy as confidently as he could muster. "I think things are going tae work themselves out eventually."

The sounds of people shouting and murmuring suddenly wafted into the hut from outside. Carson looked up out of the hut's entrance curiously to see that the rain had stopped, and that people were moving about with haste. Carefully extricating himself from the boy's grip, he stood up and peered outside.

In a small clearing on the other side of the camp, a puddle jumper was setting down. Carson's eyes grew wide with excitement, and he rushed outside to greet the rescuers as the rear hatch of the craft slowly lowered. Teyla, Dr. Zelenka, and four marines exited the craft, and his grin faded as they trained their weapons on him.

Looking down at himself, he'd almost forgotten that his friends might not recognize him any more. Others were filing in timidly behind him, trying to see what the commotion was all about, but Carson was left at the forefront to face the newcomers himself. He hesitantly took a step forward, outstretching his hands in a gesture of peace.

Teyla turned back to whisper to Dr. Zelenka. "Are you sure he is here?"

"Yes, I'm positive," he replied without looking away from the scanner he held in his hands. "Dr. Beckett is definitely here. His subcutaneous transmitter is still broadcasting, and according to the scanner, he's somewhere directly in front of us."

Turning back to face the crowd of beast-like figures gathering around the craft, she took a hesitant step forward to meet the eyes of the one in front. She gulped nervously as she met his fiery eyes, which seemed to glow red.

"Are you the leader of this group?" she asked politely, but kept a firm grip on her weapon, just in case.

The creature's eyes suddenly appeared sad, and it spoke with a gruff voice tinged with a familiar Scottish brogue. "Teyla… it's me. Don't ye recognize me at all?"

Their eyes went wide all at the same time.

"Carson…?" Radek inquired softly after a moment, swallowing hard, his scanner forgotten. "That's… that's really you?"

"Aye, it's me," Carson said incredulously, breathing a sigh of relief as his friends finally lowered their weapons.

"What happened to you?" Teyla beckoned firmly, trying to assuage her discomfort. "And where are Colonel Sheppard and Dr. McKay?"

"The Wraith took them into the compound," Carson answered, pointing in the direction that he knew the structure lied. Then, slowly, his expression hardened and he frowned. "They did this ta me. They did this ta all of us."

Radek's gaze traveled along the faces of all of the beastly people present. "How…?"

"My retrovirus research…" Carson began slowly, but found it difficult to finish his words, and lowered his head shamefully. "They corrupted it for their own benefit."

Teyla was not concerned with why, but what they were going to do to stop it from continuing. "Carson, can you take us to the entrance to this compound?"

"Aye, I can," he said hopefully, and then Lo'Nan suddenly appeared out of nowhere at his side. "But what about all these people? We cannae just leave 'em here."

Radek rubbed his chin. "How many of them are there? Perhaps the _Daedalus_ could transport them."

"There are forty-four of us now," Lo'Nan replied impassively. "Forty-four are left out of many hundreds-of-thousands."

Carson and the others gazed at him sympathetically for a long moment, but said nothing. It certainly wasn't a new and novel thing to hear of the Wraith wiping a civilization out of existence in such a manner.

Radek cleared his throat and tried to seem upbeat. "Well, I don't foresee a problem then. The _Daedalus_ should be able to accommodate all of them."

"Lo'Nan," Carson said, pulling him to the side and tried to seem optimistic. "If you'll gather everyone in the center o' camp together, I'll see them transported up ta our ship. We'll get all of ye somewhere safe."

Lo'Nan gazed back at Carson, pondering the situation carefully. "And what of your friends, Sheppard and McKay? What do you intend to do?"

"We're goin' tae rescue 'em," Carson said as confidently as he could manage, but his posture and eyes betrayed some of his concern. He did not fool Lo'Nan. "Would ye be willin' ta help out?"

"Why would you want my help?" Lo'Nan whispered angrily, looking away shamefully.

Carson's brow furrowed with confusion. "You're a fine and capable soldier, Lad. We can use all the help we can get."

"Who told you I was a soldier?" Lo'Nan growled, peering down at him suspiciously.

"Uh, well," Carson stammered uneasily, taking a hesitant step away from the man's intent gaze. "Jol'Nan might've mentioned it in passing."

Lo'Nan grunted with displeasure, and then turned as if he was going to walk away, but stopped. "I was a soldier. My entire world put their faith in me, and I failed them. Noraan commanded me to stop the Wraith, even gave me command his army, and instead I allowed them to capture and torture him. And now, I've allowed them to capture and torture your friends. I am not a fine and capable soldier. I'm a failure, not only as a soldier, but as a brother, and as a father."

Carson pulled Lo'Nan angrily around by the arm to face him. "What the Wraith have done is _not_ your fault! They cull entire worlds, leaving no survivors at all anywhere, and yet here you are, alive and well. You did what you could to make sure what remained of your people survived, an' your son is a wonderful wee tyke who just misses the rest o' his family. You're _not _a failure, not ta them, and not ta me."

Lo'Nan seemed to consider his words for a few moments, but remained silent. Carson let his arm go and hoped that the man would finally be able to see that his pain and grief were not suffered in vain, and that he might also begin to see his own worth. His family, his people, and his friends needed him desperately.

With what seemed like a renewed sense of hope, Lo'Nan strode away to gather the people together. Carson smiled, and then turned back to Teyla and Radek to discuss the formulation of a plan.

* * *

John screamed. The pain was so intense, he felt like his skin was being flayed off by brands of fire. The licks of searing pain formed at the surfaces of his body like the rivulets of his sweat that were dripping from him, spreading out over him like drops of fiery rain. They hadn't even bothered with the numbing agent this time, and it had been simply to make sure that it was clear to Ronon how much pain he was in. 

The restraints cut into his arms, legs, and chest as he struggled. Ronon said nothing, not uttering a word, or even a sound. He would not give them the satisfaction of any more protests, and tried to watch as impassively as he could while John was injected repeatedly with whatever poison it was that they had concocted over the course of three sessions now.

He had nearly cried when they'd returned him to the cell with Rodney after the second time. And when the Wraith had grabbed him a third time, he struggled against them until they'd been forced to pistol-whip him with their stunners in order to control him. Even Rodney had swung at them with clenched fists like an enraged wild man, but John hadn't seen the shot, and had only seen the grim visage of his limp figure slumped against the wall as the Wraith were dragging him away.

The pain was so intense, that he hadn't heard the cacophony of gunfire, and hadn't seen the Wraith standing next to him smiling smugly as he was filled full of bullet holes. But the alarms, those he'd heard whining over the din. It hadn't registered in his mind that he was about to be rescued; all he knew was the pain.

Ronon threw one of the Wraith that had been holding him over his hip while the one on his other side was also filled with bullets. Hands, gentler hands, grasped his wrists and ankles, freeing him from his restraints before the pain had even begun to ebb. It surprised him. When he looked up into the faces of those who had freed him, he was shocked not to find Wraith faces, but human faces. The faces of Teyla, Ronon, Rodney, Carson, and Lo'Nan greeted him.

They began to speak to him, but John could not hear them over the sirens and the pounding in his head. It didn't matter; he smiled at them happily as his legs buckled underneath him. He felt Ronon catch him before he hit the ground, and then John allowed himself to fall into a blissful state of near-unconsciousness where there was no more pain.

John did not feel himself being slung over Ronon's shoulder. He was unaware of the stunner blasts whizzing over their heads as they ran, and did not feel it as he was carried outside to a waiting puddle jumper, then carefully set down and strapped in. The puddle jumper leapt up into the sky without hesitation and immediately cloaked. An shock wave from an explosion below them rocked the ship a bit, but did not slow them down.

"Welcome back, Colonel Sheppard," Colonel Caldwell said cheerfully through the onboard speakers, but John was still blissfully unaware. "Jumper 3, head for bay 4."

Everyone let out a heavy sigh of relief all at once. They were going home.


	14. Forgive and Forget

A/N: Well, it's been fun! I know it's short, but I couldn't think of anything else to wrap this up with. :) Yay! On to my next project with glee!

* * *

When John slowly opened his eyes, he saw a white, sterile ceiling above him. His head and sinuses felt as if they were stuffed with cotton, but at least there was no pain. He also heard familiar voices around him; the voices were blurred together in a soft, quiet murmur, but were beginning to become clearer. Two voices in particular could be distinguished above the rest, and he smiled when he turned his head to watch. 

"What the hell were your orderlies thinking?" Rodney McKay complained from the bed next to his as he shoveled a forkful of chocolate pudding into his mouth. "I've told them before that I can't eat using a spoon any more, but they keep bringing one with my meals, and no fork is ever in sight. You're going to have to talk with them about proper consideration for their patients."

Carson rolled his eyes and sighed heavily, and placed the medical chart he was holding onto Rodney's bed. "Give it a rest, Rodney. I brought ye a fork now, didn't I?"

"Well, I wouldn't be complaining if the spoons they keep bringing fit between these stupid fangs I have now," Rodney snapped angrily, then pushed his tray across the table away from him. He rubbed his aching jaw. "And it still hurts like hell if the silverware touches my teeth."

"I'll get more ibuprofen," Carson said as he strode over to the drug cabinet in the corner of the infirmary. "But really, Rodney, it's not that bad. I nay had any ibuprofen while I was out there. Maybe Nia might have some more o' that mint-like root."

When Carson returned to Rodney's side and handed him a couple of pills with a glass of water, he glanced over at John and smiled at him warmly, revealing his fangs in a wide grin, still framed in a furry, but kindly face. "Colonel! Good, you're awake!"

John rubbed his face sleepily, trying to blink away some of the tiredness. "What happened?"

"I'm afraid they injected ye with the same thing they injected us," Carson said solemnly as he came to stand at John's bedside. "The Wraith lab has been destroyed, and I've developed a treatment for the drug using my original retrovirus research on the ATA gene for the people we're lookin' after. But unfortunately, a slightly different strain was used on us later on because of our gene, and that new strain was designed ta overcome our natural resistance to it. I'm workin' on it, though. I think I can weed out the cheeky li'l bugger usin' the same stem cell induction procedure that we used ta stop your transformation into an Iratus bug."

John scratched his head. "So, that means you can cure us, right?"

"Aye, it does," Carson assured him with another toothy grin. "I'll probably end up scarin' ta death any poor wee lads or lassies needin' ta be vaccinated until we're finally completely cured, though."

Rodney snickered with amusement at the thought of all the little children that were going to be absolutely terrified. He knew that poor Carson would feel bad about knowing he made them cry.

"And just what do ye think you're laughin' at, Rodney?" Carson asked with annoyance, folding his arms with mock indignation. "Ye don't really think all the scientists in the city will be any less fearful of ye than the wee babies will be of me, do ye? An' Colonel Sheppard will have a grand time frightenin' the lot of new trainees comin' in next week as well, I'd wager."

"What do you mean by that?" John asked with bewilderment. "I thought you said you had a cure."

"Aye, I do, son," Carson assured him. "Don't you worry about that. But it has ta wait until the drug the Wraith used on us has completely taken effect on ye."

John groaned, Rodney snickered again, and Carson simply continued to smile smugly. It was going to be a long week of recovery, and not one of them intended to let the other two live it down.

* * *

Lo'Nan sighed lazily as he laid back against the grassy hill, watching the last rays of sunlight streaming across the horizon fade into a dark amber sky. Rubbing his face again, he frowned. It still itched. The itch had not gone away after he'd been turned into a beast, and for some reason, it still plagued him even after their new friends in Atlantis had finally cured him and his people of their likeness to beasts. He smiled at the memory of seeing the grand city of the Ancestors in all its glory from the window of the Puddle Jumper. 

With Jol'Nan cuddled up sleepily at his side, he marveled at how much more quickly the boy had recovered from the ordeal that they had been put through, and how quickly he had taken to making new friends among the Athosians that were now their neighbors. Tousling the boy's hair with his palm, Lo'Nan smiled again. Simply waiting for the stars to appear in the sky was something he'd not had time for, but was glad that, with all the bad memories burying themselves in the deepest recesses of his mind, there was time for such trivial things now.

"Lo'Nan," someone behind him spoke softly.

With his once-powerful hearing now much weaker than it was, Lo'Nan was surprised by the sudden presence, and whirled around to see who it was that had spoken. Behind him stood a plainly clothed dark-haired man and woman whom he felt like he had not seen in ages. Jol'Nan stirred at his side, prying open his sleepy eyes, and then looked around at the two people who'd approached so silently.

"Uncle Noraan! Aunt Nia!" Jol'Nan shouted gleefully, and then ran up to them excitedly.

Slinging his arms around each of their legs in turn, Jol'Nan hugged them happily until Noraan picked him up and embraced him affectionately with a low chuckle. He handed the boy off to Nia after a moment, and then turned to Lo'Nan, who tentatively approached them.

"Well," Noraan began softly, his expression hardening. "It seems you finally managed to come through for us after all."

Lo'Nan frowned and looked away, but forced his eyes to return to Noraan. "I've always tried to do right by everyone I've ever had to protect. I may not always succeed, but I always try."

For the first time that Lo'Nan had ever seen, Noraan was speechless and lowered his gaze sadly. His lips trembled, and as much as Noraan seemed to want to say something, to utter words of forgiveness to his only brother, he could not.

Lo'Nan was content with the gesture, though. He knew his brother, and it was the closest Noraan would probably ever come to showing his true feelings. He never could admit that he was wrong. Lo'Nan gently placed his hand on his brother's shoulder, squeezing gently.

And then Noraan did what Lo'Nan would never have thought was possible. He reached out to Lo'Nan and caught him in a firm hug. They embraced each other tightly, and Lo'Nan felt tears stinging his eyes. Nia and Jol'Nan then joined in the moment and wrapped their arms around everyone.

Silent tears of joy were shed by all, and if Lo'Nan could have frozen time at that very moment, he would have.

"Anara is waiting for us to get back," Lo'Nan said happily, taking Jol'Nan from Nia's arms. "Why don't you both join us for dinner?"

Nia grinned happily, and even one sly corner of Noraan's mouth twisted into a faint smile.

Jol'Nan cheered happily, running in hyperactive circles around the adults as Lo'Nan led the way back to their new home. He was hopeful for once that things might actually go alright.


End file.
